


An Ever-Fixed Mark

by mz18



Series: An Ever-Fixed Mark [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Age Regression, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Autistic Julian Bashir, Caregiver Elim Garak, Childhood Trauma, Dominion War (Star Trek), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Little Julian Bashir, Little Space, M/M, Mentions of past self-harm, Non-Sexual Age Play, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mz18/pseuds/mz18
Summary: The Dominion War is taking its toll on Julian. Garak can see that his partner is struggling and unhappy, and that he desperately wants something he is too frightened and ashamed to ask for. Together, they slowly explore this side of Julian and of their relationship, causing them both to confront difficult memories from their childhoods, and come to new realizations and understandings about their partnership.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: An Ever-Fixed Mark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907737
Comments: 136
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

Garak was not entirely sure when he first noticed Julian's furtive glances towards his teddy-bear, but it was at least a recent development, and a recurring one. For the moment, he said nothing, instead regarding his partner as he in turn gazed at his childhood companion. Garak was struck by the manner in which the Doctor placed himself in front of his Kukalaka; it had begun with a calculated move past the shelf where Kukalaka resided, not stopping, so he could not be accused of having gone with the express desire to look at his bear. He would then shift his eyes, hold them on Kukalaka for the briefest moment, not breaking his stride, and continue on to whatever invented task or purpose he had found in that direction. Then came a change – he wanted to be able to look upon his bear for longer, which entailed having to remain stationary, but without attracting attention to the fact that it was his soft toy holding his focus. He would arrange and rearrange items around Kukalaka, although his eyes were not trained on these objects, but on the bear. Garak noted that it happened overwhelmingly in the evenings, shortly before they would retire to bed, though there had been a handful of occasions since he had begun to consciously make his observations of his partner's odd actions when the darting approach and retreat had happened in the early morning, just as he was off to the infirmary. Garak had not yet formulated a hypothesis as to why it took place predominantly in the evenings, and what caused the change of routine to make it occur in the mornings. 

He knew why he held back from broaching the subject with Julian – a lifetime of training and socialization was a stubborn thing, and he would never be able to shake it, nor did he want to. Softening some edges for one particular person, however, had been an acceptable compromise. His role had always been one of observer and he did adore observing his Doctor; had done so, in fact, for years before they had come together as a pair. On some days prior to their relationship developing further, it had truly been enough for Garak to observe this human, endlessly fascinated by his movements and qualities, it had been enough to gaze upon his beautiful form, mentally tracing over his lines and limbs. There had been a persistent unease in him at the commencement of their romantic interactions that he would be incapable of shifting his mindset from pure observer, to being able to fully enjoy his body and the man who wanted to be with him. This unease had lessened but never entirely went away. Garak remained aware of the advantages of his trained eye for observation, and so he worked to rewrite the scripts he had long learned, and sought to understand his desire to observe Julian as being an expression of how he wanted to know him more and more intimately, learn more and more of him for the sake and pleasure of it, not observing in order to win power or to gain a useful advantage. He further knew that his manner of being was the antithesis of the Doctor's – this too had presented a struggle but he had approached it from a practical standpoint; he fought against his natural insular instincts by attempting to seek out what was common between them, and finding a correlating aspect of the Doctor's humanity for his own form. If Julian lacked the elegant eye-ridges of his own people, he did have wonderful lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, deepening as the months passed (something which seemed to disturb the Doctor, which Garak could not understand as they appeared very fine to him indeed); if Julian lacked the beautiful neck ridges he was accustomed to admire, he did possess a collarbone with a hard, elegant sweep to it. 

He knew Julian well, and he was beginning to know him very well; he was conscious though that he did not know him as well and as intimately as he wished to, an admission he found saddened him in a manner he had never expected to experience. He also had to admit that he had not made it easy for his partner to know him intimately in return, and on bad days this brought a black cloud over him, a heavy feeling of resignation; on good days, only a light bemusement, and even hope that the future would bring him closer to unraveling the mystery of the object of his observations, and that he too would learn to give Julian something more in return without suspicion. 

This was what had caused him to hold back now, and observe for a time longer before even considering broaching the subject of his repeated lingering in front of his Kukalaka. Up to this point in their friendship, and now relationship, Julian had never sought to hide something from him. Initially he had been bewildered by the Doctor's habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve, his inability to dissimulate, then he had found it endearing, and then ultimately, it elicited a protective reaction in him. Of course, the Julian who now shared a bed with him was not quite the same boyish man he had once known, as this was inevitable – nothing could stay exactly the same, and things would always be lost in life. He wondered if the Doctor himself was aware of this change and whether he missed the spiky novice he had been when he first arrived on this station? Logically then, Garak was aware he too must have changed over the intervening years but he found it more difficult to recognize and accept in himself than in his partner.

Why would he hide this from him, this need to look at his bear? Had he learned too much from being with Garak, and was hiding a perceived weak spot? This did not quite make sense to him as Julian had previously never displayed such an attitude towards Kukalaka. Kukalaka had been presented to him, discussed, acknowledged, an accepted presence. Granted, Garak had had no pre-existing reference for such an object and had himself had to learn how to interpret it. 

It was late, and Garak knew Julian should return to their quarters soon after another long day in a seemingly unending march of days. He approached the shelf where Kukalaka was ensconced and gently picked up the small creature – he seemed so incongruous in his large, grey hands. Would he have wished for such a toy as a young Cardassian, if they had been available? Perhaps – Kukalaka would certainly have been a welcome companion when he was locked away, something soft to hold on to in the cramped darkness. He wished not to think of that now; he steadied himself by taking a deep breath and firmly removing himself from those memories, focusing now instead on Kukalaka, on how small the bear was. Even in Julian's hands the bear would have been a little thing. How could something so small provide such comfort and security? He attempted to picture Julian as a young child, something he had never even seen any images of, as his partner did not keep any such items. If Julian had been smaller, an underdeveloped child physically, he had said of himself, then the bear would have seemed bigger and more substantial in that context. Was this what Julian experienced when he looked at his bear, did it take him back to a time and place when the bear was bigger and he was smaller? He replaced Kukalaka carefully, storing this supposition away for further analysis, instinctively feeling he had stumbled upon something that held truth in it, although not the full story.

The door chimed, announcing that Julian was back. Garak turned to meet him, his features adopting a mild expression of pleasure. He was indeed happy to see his partner, but something nagged at him these past couple of months. As Julian moved around their quarters, ridding himself of the remnants of his work day, flicking a covert glance towards Kukalaka, and pouring himself a large measure of brandy, Garak realized what it was – the absence of chatter. Since tensions with the Dominion had spiked, there was a lack of discussions, not just about literature (Julian could currently not justify the time needed to read for pleasure) but even stories about his day, the cases and patients he encountered in the infirmary. He missed it, the patter, the little stories shared, how Julian structured his anecdotes, the speed and tone of his voice, the accompanying animated facial and hand gestures. His days seemed that much colder without it. There had been, it seemed, an unspoken understanding reached somehow, that Julian at this time did not wish to talk about what he was confronted with on a daily basis, the casualties of a conflict that showed no sign of coming to an end. Garak was loathe to leave Julian alone with these horrible images but who was he to demand that his partner be forced to share something with him he didn't want to? It was as if he was becoming less 'Julian', drifting further and further from his own self and Garak hoped he would survive this war, and not just in the literal sense. 

Garak pulled the soft blanket more securely around his legs as he settled himself on the sofa, not quite as warm yet as he would wish to be ideally, and Julian smiled at him lightly as he emptied his glass, and then went to pour himself another measurement. Now that Julian's mouth had become empty of words, he had seemingly turned to filling it with alcoholic beverages. It was somewhat ironic – or would that be hypocritical?- for Garak to comment mentally on Julian's drinking habits, but it was undeniable that the Doctor's intake had increased and not insignificantly. Not that he was drinking to an exaggerated excess, there was no way Julian would compromise his ability to discharge his duty as Chief Medical Officer. This rather made it very difficult for Garak to articulate what it was that disturbed him about Julian's alcoholic consumption. Before, drinks had been sporadic, and something sociable, enjoyed with friends and colleagues, part of a celebration, a desire to prolong the joy of the moment. He thought fondly of the times Julian had unintentionally ended up somewhat tipsy with him, before they had become a couple, how his self simply seemed to be amplified by the drinks he had imbibed, his eyes dancing, speech even faster, utterly endearing; he was Julian, just more intense, if that was possible. Now though, brandy was something to partake of every evening, signalling the end of the day, something taken in private, not with friends; it continued to amplify him, which meant it was this version of Julian that become amplified, who was quiet, tired, drifting further away not only from Garak but from himself. Garak knew too well the comfort of alcohol, how it dulled what was too sharp, giving brief respite. The Doctor was self-medicating, that much was clear. But what was it he was seeking to erase, what was it that he truly needed instead of the false comfort of drinking? He wished he could truthfully give the answer that it was he, himself, he was what Julian needed. At least though, he could help his love to find what it was that he did need. Julian was deeply unhappy, struggling and Garak did not know whether Kukalaka was the solution to this issue but he was certainly indicative of the problem, and understanding this would clarify a lot. Instinct told Garak to approach slowly and softly, that any direct addressing of it at this time would end disastrously. 

Garak roused himself from his thoughts and ordered a cup of tea from the replicator, wanting to have something to keep his hands occupied as he attempted to talk with Julian. He sipped his tea before beginning, as if struck by a casual notion: “Why do you think people deny themselves what they truly want?” He cocked his head slightly, blinking his eyes at Julian. The Doctor paused in drinking, looking initially surprised, then somewhat exasperated, and then ultimately intrigued, a ghost of his old self settling on his features as he considered what Garak had said.

“Uhm,” he began, pressing his lips together, his eyes searching the ceiling for a moment. "All sorts of reasons, I suppose. It is a bit vague, what you're asking. Would it be alright if I inquired about the parameters of this question?”

“Most certainly, Doctor.” Garak replied, satisfied to have already won Julian's attention and engagement so successfully. 

“Is the hypothetical desire something that would hurt others?” 

“No, I don't believe so.” Of course his first concern would be that; he was certain enough though that what Julian wanted would not fall into such a category.

“Is it illegal? That generally puts the brakes on acquiring what you want.” 

“Well, makes it more difficult, but who knows, perhaps that is part of the charm for some. In this case, I don't believe it is illegal. I simply refer to a desire, something a person wants, and could have and yet will not allow themselves it.”

“Fear? If you allow others to know what it is that you desire it leaves you in a vulnerable position. It could be used against you, or taken away from you again.” 

These words fell heavily on Garak's ears – how changed his Julian was now. His facial expression betrayed none of this, he simply inclined his head and said “I fear you are spending too much time in my company, my dear.” 

Julian smiled at that, reaching for another refill of his glass.

“Let us say,” Garak resumed. “that the desire will cause no harm to others, is not illegal, and will not put our subject in a weak position.”

Julian considered this, rolling his glass gently between his palms. “Shame, then.”

“Shame? How so?”

“Well, just because something is legal doesn't necessarily mean it is something you can happily own for the whole world to see.”

“But why would a person do that? Whatever it is that they desire can be enjoyed by them without having to proclaim it to all and sundry.”

“But, by that admission, that something someone desires can only be enjoyed in secret only strengthens the idea that is indeed shameful.”

“Nonsense Doctor!” Garak was warming to the debate now, enjoying himself and feeling closer to Julian than he had in some time. “You and I certainly engage in activities which are highly pleasurable but that we would not necessarily broadcast to our colleagues or display in public, yet our lovemaking has no shame attached to it simply because it takes place in private and is shared only with one trusted partner.”

“You have me there, Garak. However, shame is something that doesn't always have to have a rational logic, or have a connection to the outside world, or find evidence confirming it in reality. A person can experience shame relating to desire given the context. Someone can have internalized a whole set of values relating to what they want as being shameful, even though this sense of shame is irrational, but no less powerful for it.”

So, it was a sense of shame, Garak thought to himself. What shame does he link to his teddy bear? He had not done so previously. What had changed? 

“What sort of desires are we talking about in this case, anyway?” Julian queried. 

“Oh,” Garak thought quickly. “Indulgent desires.” 

“That encompasses a great deal”.

Julian made to pour himself a further drink. Garak''s pained disapproval, though hidden to a casual observer, was too evident to Julian. “And just where we are discussing desires and shame, you are judging me for wanting another brandy.”

Garak remained silent and Julian replaced the empty glass. “However, you are right, Garak. I should just go to bed instead.”

“What, and not continue this fascinating conversation? I thought we had only just begun.”

Julian held out his hand to him. “I think it can wait until tomorrow and that gives you even more time to come up with further arguments and aspects to discourse on.”

Garak took Julian's hand and allowed himself to be helped up. He rubbed his thumb and fingers across his hand, struck by the roughness of the skin here contrasted to the softness of other parts of him, the inside of his thighs and his upper arms. The calloused touch of those hands was intensely comforting to Garak; these were strong hands, tools, capable of soothing patient and lover alike. Garak took great pleasure in holding these hands to his chest, observing the stark contrast between his scaled grey skin and the dark tapering digits pressed against him. 

In their bedroom Garak undressed methodically, folding and storing each item whilst Julian was somewhat more slapdash, tugging off his undershirt, leaving his hair in fluffy disarray. They arranged themselves in bed until they found the position most suited to them, with Garak on his back, one of Julian's long legs thrown over him, leaving Garak able to rest his hand on his warm skin. Sometimes, during particularly stressful times, Julian would specifically ask Garak if he could change position, to rest his body weight on him as much as he could as it helped him feel better, took the worry away somehow, he explained. He felt more than saw that Julian was quickly falling into an exhausted slumber. It had been quite some time since they had last made love. Garak did know that it wasn't due to Julian losing interest in him, which was some consolation – as the conflict with the Dominion wore on, Julian's drive had dwindled. Others during this period would have had the exact opposite reaction, and indeed, Garak got the impression that this was the case when he saw Quark's bar and the couples there, the Holosuites in constant use. It affected his Doctor differently, however. Initially in their relationship, Garak had secretly worried that he would be the one who would not have a libido to match his younger partner. Even as a younger man himself, Garak had been more inclined towards sensuality rather than a more active drive. He was content to spend time simply exploring and touching his partner's body, concerned with giving them pleasure and not necessarily requiring to take it in return, or at least not in a more penetrative manner. In those first heady months with Julian, there had been evenings which seemed endless, spent acquainting themselves with the other's body and accompanying adventures in working out how to compatibly align them. All Garak had to do was close his eyes and he could instantly conjure up the image of Julian's face when he first touched his cock, how his fingertips moved over the dark scales at the base, carefully feeling the small ridges running down its length; Julian's eyes had been even darker than usual, in his heavily lidded gaze an expression of intense focus and want. The memory of the moment sent heat to his neck every time. They had found a rhythm, as with everything, that worked for them. Garak learned from Julian how he could bring him the most pleasure (although Garak may have opened his eyes on one or two new things) and so it played no role whether Garak was able to perform on a given occasion or not. “Even in this, still a voyeur.” Julian had teased. “An observer.” he had responded. Now though, there was little time to be spent on such languorous occasions. Julian was chronically under-slept, and there was no thought for lover's caresses or initiations when he fell into bed. Sometimes Julian didn't even make it to their bed at all, he would simply fold himself up in a chair in the infirmary and sleep there. 

In a strange way, the ongoing conflict had been what precipitated their final move from close friends to partners. Garak had found himself increasingly snappish, far too easily irritated and ready for sharp remarks at any given moment. The target usually ended up being the Doctor as this was when his ability to control his frustrations were at their lowest. The Doctor had missed one of their lunch dates and Garak had stalked off to track him down, not having heard from him or having any word of a need to cancel or reschedule. He had found the Doctor, obliviously hunched over reports in his private office at the infirmary; he had looked genuinely surprised to see Garak and then contrite at realizing he had been so caught up in the work of processing the reports on injured fighters that he had forgotten their assignation. And yet Garak had found himself unable to swallow the thorny asides which bubbled up, quickly causing Julian in his turn to react with a similar prickliness. However, in the briefest moment, Garak witnessed Julian's brown eyes softening, the usual amused warmth returning to them. 

“Garak, were you worried about me? That something had happened to me? Now that I am taking active part in this war?”

“Preposterous.” Garak had retorted, his throat closing up as he only realized in the moment after Julian had said this that it was true. 

“Garak.” His voice had been quieter, deeper. “I am sorry to have distressed you but I have to fulfill my duties. I am afraid this is what I signed up for.”

“Yes, your precious frontier medicine.” He hissed, despising the sound of the words but incapable of saying anything else. Julian had then taken a small step towards him and kissed him, holding his lips against his for just a moment, shocking Garak to his core, causing him to step back, body held rigidly, ready to defend himself against whatever plot or ploy this was. Julian had smiled and approached him again, and kissing him once more. 

“I can only promise that I will try to take the greatest care that I can, but I cannot control anything else. Will you please forgive me for my rudeness in forgetting our lunch date?”

And of course he forgave him. 

Though it had been the war which had finally pushed them together, Garak found himself regularly musing upon how their partnership would be when the conflict was over. If their relationship had been forged in war, he had niggling concerns about how they would be with one another outside of it. He allowed himself in the quiet of their bedroom to fantasize about being able to bring his Doctor on holiday, whenever 'this' was over ('over'?) . Where could they go? Somewhere warm, that criterion was a must. Somewhere with wide open spaces, a far-off horizon, unblemished by any other disturbing elements. Flowers would be nice too, wildflowers. He imagined being there with Julian, but as sleep overtook him, somehow the colours changed, the greenery became sandy desert and the landscape was now Cardassia.


	2. Chapter 2

Whilst attending to customer orders in his shop, Garak gathered up small scraps of cloth and assorted materials, cast-offs from his day's work, and instead of immediately disposing of them as he usually would, he remained holding them, considering them, examining their texture and colour. Was he really entertaining the idea of creating attirement for Julian's bear? The more he considered it, the more it appealed to him. Yes, there was a whimsical aspect in wanting to make clothing for a teddy, but this was also mixed with a technical interest in fashioning something so small; however, the deeper underlying motivation was to press this subject with slightly more force. The discussion last night, though rewarding in other ways, had not necessarily yielded the answers Garak sought, nor had it progressed his investigation by much. By drawing unavoidable attention to Kukalaka he hoped to glean something further or telling from Julian's reaction or his words. He set about creating something simple initially, a little hat and scarf for his partner's companion. Kukalaka was quite washed out, and though cool hues of purple and turquoise were gorgeously suited to Julian's tones, this little bear needed softer shades of burnt orange and warm yellow. At the end of the day before closing up his shop, he tucked the two items into his pocket and proceeded back to his quarters. Julian had not yet returned and in all likelihood he would not be back for some time yet. He deftly arranged the little scarf around Kukalaka's neck and using his fingertips encouraged the hat into just the right angle. This accomplished, he furnished himself with tea, his preferred thick blanket on his lap, and Padd with a particularly convoluted Enigma Tale.  
Not feeling the time pass, Garak was alerted to Julian's return only by the sound of the doors pinging and opening. He gave him what was fast becoming his usual tired smile and then moved towards Kukalaka's shelf.  
Garak remained silent, regarding Julian's turned back from his vantage point perched on the sofa. He saw Julian, instead of giving Kukalaka what was fast becoming his usual furtive glance, had stopped. Garak could see his body tensing into a rigid line before he snapped his head around towards him.

“What is this?” he hissed, his tone not even resembling a question or accusation, rather an expression of pure outrage. Garak had not been expecting this. He saw that his plan had backfired and he would need to do some quick damage control if Julian wasn't to hide his odd attitude to Kukalaka from him even further. 

“Julian, I can only beg your pardon, I did not mean to cause any offence to you – or to Kukalaka.” He faltered as he said the last part. Julian snorted.

“Why are you mocking me like this?”

“I assure you, I had not intention of ever mocking you.” 

“Of course you did, playing this game, making Kukalaka look as silly as I feel for having him.” 

Garak was bewildered to say the least, and admittedly, now also a small bit indignant himself. “It pains me that you perceive the products of my tailor's skills as 'silly'. I suppose I should hold off on the three-piece suit I had planned for him.”

“Garak,” Julian said, with less fire than previously. “let's just drop it. You made a mistake, I'll get over it.”

“Doctor, I hate to contradict you -” Julian let out a short “ha” at this blatant lie. “-however, I do not believe we should 'drop it', as you put it.”

“Why?” Julian had his hands on his hips, head cocked sideways and upwards, looking down at him. He was very much on the defensive.

“I will apologize for having made these items for Kukalaka and for having dressed him without consulting you beforehand. However -” Julian had made to turn away, attempting to dismiss him. “However, I had no intention of mocking you, I would not mock you about something like this.”

“Like what?” 

“Something important.”

Julian broke their gaze, his eyes unable to meet Garak's. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bit your head off like that.”

Garak smiled faintly. What had happened to Julian? He felt 'silly' for having Kukalaka? This had not been the case previously. Julian openly spoke about Kukalaka and his importance to him. “My dear, did someone recently make fun of you for having a teddy bear?”

Garak approached Julian, encircling his wrist in his grip, and meeting minimal resistance, got him to sit on the sofa beside him. Julian's shoulders had sagged, his head bowed. “No, no, nothing of the sort. Just – my own feeling about it, I suppose.” 

“I am somewhat confused, I must admit. You have never indicated you felt embarrassed about Kukalaka before. Has something changed to cause this to happen?” 

Julian remained silent for some long moments, and Garak worried he had pushed him too hard. However, he waited, hoping rather he was searching for the right words. 

“I am a man in his thirties now, I think it is quite embarrassing to have a toy still.”

“According to who?”

“Well, people.”

“Who specifically though?”

“No-one specifically, it's just a given really.”

“Is it? But why?” 

“Garak. They are meant for children.”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?”

“Your answer is not at all a satisfactory one. Though I only first learned of a creature such as a teddy bear from you, I find it quite self-explanatory that children and adults alike should want to hold onto something soft, appealing in appearance, and cuddly when they are in need of comfort or a sense of security.”

“Are you trying to convince me, that you, as an adult Cardassian, would want to hold a teddy bear?”

“Why not? May I?” 

“May you - ?” 

“May I hold Kukalaka? I do at least have to remove the offending hat and scarf.”

“Oh, Garak, forget about – oh, go ahead, hold him.”

Garak nodded, rose, and approached Kukalaka, taking the worn little bear carefully into his hands. He examined his visage, the comical mouth, and then rubbed his fingers over the bear's ears and then his paws. He squeezed him gently – it was satisfying. He placed him cupped in the palm of one hand, supporting his back with the other. Then he held the bear to his chest. It did feel nice, not dissimilar to the sensation he had when settling under his heavy blanket as he sat and read. 

“Doctor, it is perfectly pleasant to hold this fellow.” He turned to look at Julian. His face held an expression of longing, tempered with melancholy. He wanted Kukalaka, to hold him, but it wasn't all that was bothering him. Kukalaka was the start of something, the first station, and Julian seemed to desperately want it but was also currently denying it to himself. Garak assumed his position beside Julian on the sofa, still cradling Kukalaka in his arms. 

“Do I appear silly to you, Doctor?” 

“Not at all. You make a very sweet picture.”

“Well, he is a sweet thing, really.” 

Garak hoped that sitting with Julian, holding the little bear like this and discussing him was helping to normalize whatever odd feelings he had developed in relation to Kukalaka, although he already suspected those feelings were very deeply rooted and would take some time to access.

“Julian, did you believe I would mock you for wanting to have your bear, to hold onto him?”

Julian started. “No, no. I – well. Perhaps. Yes. But also no.” 

Garak swallowed his retort about Julian's inarticulateness. “Julian, I do see you looking at Kukalaka. I would hate to think you were denying yourself cuddling your bear for the sake of worrying about how you appeared to me.” 

“Well, thank you, Elim, but really, I can't just start cuddling my toys at night. I mean, whatever next?”

“Indeed, Doctor, what would be next?” 

Julian flushed deeply at this and inwardly Garak was taken aback. There was absolutely something more here Julian was scarcely able to acknowledge in himself, let alone to Garak. He decided it was better to move on, to give Julian some respite. “Are there times when you would like to have Kukalaka with you when you are sleeping?” 

“Yes.” He admitted, in barely a whisper. 

“When does this happen?” 

“Oh, just sometimes. A particularly bad day at work, or something else bad happened during the day, or bad dreams.” Garak noted the repetition of the word 'bad', something childlike about Julian's usage of it. “But it would seem somewhat rude to bring my teddy bear to bed with me when you're there.” Julian placed his hand on Garak's thigh, and removing one of his hands from Kukalaka, Garak covered Julian's hand with his own. 

“I assure you Doctor, I will take absolutely no offence nor feel any slight if Kukalaka were to share the bed with us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Just because Kukalaka gives you something doesn't mean that you are rejecting me in some way.” 

Julian held Garak's hand tighter. “And – and you wouldn't think any less of me? It wouldn't, oh God, it wouldn't cause your – desire for me to lessen?”  
“Julian. Nothing would be capable of dimming my desire for you in the slightest.” 

“You're sure? To see me holding my toy in my arms wouldn't affect that?” 

“No, indeed not. Although I do insist on Kukalaka not being present during our more private moments.” 

“Of course.” Julian replied in mock seriousness, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

Garak considered placing Kukalaka into Julian's hands but thought that this might be forcing the issue too much. He filed away Julian's fear that he would find him less attractive due to this attachment to his bear. It seemed another key. He put Kukalaka back on his shelf.

“Garak?” 

“Hmm?” 

“The hat and scarf are lovely. They're just the right shade for him.” 

“I knew that. I'm a professional.” 

Julian came up beside him and watched as he redressed Kukalaka, hat and scarf adjusted just so. 

“Julian, if you do have one of those times when you would like to hold onto Kukalaka, you will do it?” 

He only nodded, but he met Garak's gaze, and he knew he did mean it. 

As he lay in bed that night, Julian having fallen into a restless sleep beside him, his legs twitching, moving for purchase on the sheets, Garak further tried to examine Julian's fear of being mocked for his bear. He imagined what would have happened if Tain had ever come upon him cuddling a soft toy. It would have been swift and vicious, a punishment expressing his father's complete contempt and derision. That would certainly be a strong deterrent for him to not be caught in such a position. The fear though rather seemed to stem from Julian himself, a pre-judgement of his own perceived aberration. What had he meant by “What would be next” and his deep blush at this? What would it lead to? Garak had known his partner long enough to recognize that he was at heart a good man, one with flaws certainly, and who could be utterly maddening when he chose to, but ultimately, he was good. In private, he could even admit that he was perhaps the best he had seen of the human species and what it had to offer. Indeed, initially upon meeting Julian he had been intrigued by this goodness, and over the years it had changed, and he found himself rather wondering what someone like Julian could see in his own ambivalent (to say the least) history. Why was he so concerned with the notion of 'bad' and where the act of just holding his teddy could lead? A thought presented itself to Garak, and it saddened him that it seemed it was likely true. He resolved to keep it to himself for the moment, and raise it with Julian at a time when he could be sure it would be safe and conducive to do so.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Another attack, a bad one this time. The noise was incessant as more and more casualties and refugees poured into the station. Garak watched them passing on the promenade – he had seen Julian earlier as he moved through the huddled groups of distressed and injured; his face had been drawn, focused on his patients to the exclusion of all else, the front of his scrubs covered in blood. As Garak looked at the streams of Klingons and Bajorans he thought of his own people. Cardassia too must have sustained great losses, and his heart ached for the innocent caught up in this war and it ached even more knowing he could not help, that he could not even hope to express this sorrow to those around him, and that for some these victims would not count at all as victims to them. The only thing he could do was prepare further deliveries for the orphans, for after today there would be more to add to their numbers.

Towards the end of the day his shop doors chimed and Odo appeared before him. 

“Constable.” He inclined his head. 

Their relationship was an odd one. He did admire the Constable, begrudgingly, if nothing else than for his sense of dignity, coupled with his dogged stubbornness in discharging his work and duties. He trusted the man, something he could say only about a choice few. 

“Garak.” He stood before him, watching as he dealt with some final pieces of inventory. “Today has been a bad day.”

“A very bad one.” Garak concurred. He felt Odo hesitating before continuing in his gruff tones.

“I think in particular it has been a bad day for the Doctor. A lot of the injured did not survive.”

Garak made as if he was concerned with the contents of some Padds near to hand which he had in fact already dealt with. Hardly anyone openly acknowledged or addressed his relationship with Julian. Lieutenant Dax was the most open, whereas for the majority of the others there seemed to be a tacit agreement to not say anything. Garak could appreciate discretion, however in this case he knew it had less to do with discretion and rather more to do with bewilderment on their parts, an inability to understand what Julian was doing with him. Odo was breaking this silence, and to do so indicated to Garak that the Constable was indeed concerned for the Doctor. 

“It is a thankless job, being the Chief Medical Officer of a station during a war.” Garak said. 

“That it is. But we could not do without him.”

“No. Indeed not.” 

Odo nodded abruptly before turning to leaving. 

The Constable was worried about Julian and had told Garak, believing he could do something to help; it was a small gesture of confidence, an acknowledgement of what he and Julian were to each other, and Garak found himself somewhat touched by it.

It was very late that night when Julian was finally able to return to their quarters, and he had immediately made a beeline for the shower, discarding his clothes as he went, barely even greeting Garak. He said nothing, but picked up the clothes and took care of them, noting again further tears and worn parts in the sleeves, a task to be attended to another day. There was a crashing sound followed instantly by a string of curses from Julian, muffled through the wall. Garak had noticed a tendency in Julian to become more clumsy and accident-prone when stressed. Garak did not have a clear plan in his mind about how to help Julian after this day. He appeared in the doorway, a dark look in his eyes, seemingly still unaware of Garak. He hadn't even looked at Kukalaka this time, he realized. Instead he was making his way to the replicator and Garak knew what was next, that he would begin drinking, and this time, it would not stop after the usual few drinks, it would continue on. Garak could recognize all too well the signs in another – he remembered (and some days still experienced) the need to drink, an all-consuming need to numb the senses and the self, sometimes needing a drink as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning. That same desperate need was evident in Julian right now and Garak knew he had no time to apply a more considered approach. If he allowed Julian to drink himself senseless he would lose even the small amount of progress he had made with him over the past few days. He moved, quicker than Julian, who was exhausted from the day and the cumulative effect of the days leading up to it, plucked Kukalaka from his shelf, and inserted himself between Julian and the replicator, and he placed Kukalaka into his hands.  
Julian looked at Garak for a long moment, anger about to take over completely, but then it was gone, he slumped, tiredness even more apparent, distress now too, and he simply clutched Kukalaka to his chest, the little bear fairly clamped in his grip. His breathing had increased rapidly.

“Oh, Garak.” He fell against the Cardassian's chest, his voice high and choked with tears. Garak put his arms around Julian's slight frame, stroking the nape of his neck with one hand whilst making small circles on his lower back with the other. 

“My dearest boy.” He murmured into his hair. 

Julian was trembling. Garak could feel Kukalaka crushed between them. He was certain it was not the first time the teddy had been witness to such a scene.

“The children, Garak. I treated so many hurt children today, who were alone, their parents killed in the attack or they had somehow got separated in the chaos of it all. I looked at their faces, so deadened by what they had seen and felt, their childhoods are gone, Garak, and so many other children will have their childhood taken from them.” He pressed himself closer into Garak's embrace, his breathing still coming in harsh gulps. Garak continued what he hoped were soothing movements, beginning to even slightly rock Julian back and forth where they stood. He did not yet know what to say. What could he say? Julian was right – their childhoods were gone, war was no thing for children. 

“I am sorry, Julian, and I share your grief for them. There will sadly be many more to come.” He paused. “I know it wasn't because of a war, but you too were also denied a full childhood, were you not?” 

Julian stiffened in his arms. What he had guessed at last night was correct then. “After your parents sent you away for those treatments you were no longer allowed to be a child like the others, were you? You had to study and learn and perform, there was no time to play or be a child after the age of six.” He felt Julian nod his head against him. “You are given a glimpse back to your childhood, the one taken from you, when you hold Kukalaka, yes?” 

Julian managed to rouse himself enough to reply quietly. “Yes. But at the same time, there's more to it than that.”

“I did guess as much, dearest.” This was true. He was aware this was merely the tip, but he believed Julian trusted him enough now to be able to unburden himself in time. Garak caressed the nape of his neck, applying soft pressure, and he could feel Julian's muscles loosening under these ministrations.

“I know you don't like my drinking.” 

“I would never seek to judge or comment upon anyone's drinking habits. I certainly have no leg to stand on in that regard. It is not your drinking, it is the change in your attitude to it, what you need from it, the reliance.” 

“I do know, I know what I am doing and that it's a short term solution, but sometimes you can know something and keep doing it anyway.” He raised his head and kissed the tip of Garak's nose, a gesture he loved to bestow upon him, and although he still did not quite see what it was that Julian found so inviting about his nose he had come to receive the gesture fondly. 

Shortly thereafter, they made their way to bed, Julian relinquishing his hold on Kukalaka only to undress, before settling in beside Garak, the bear clutched in his hand. It was an endearing sight, and Garak found he was somehow made content by seeing his partner finally allowing himself that which he had been denying himself. In the morning then, after what had transpired the previous night, Garak was not entirely surprised to wake up beside Julian, who not only held onto his bear still, but was now sucking his thumb. Garak examined the picture before him, and once more found it to be charming. He looked so restful and he wished only that they did not have to rise for the day ahead. He remained quietly beside his sleeping partner, processing this new information, whilst also wanting to be present when Julian woke up – he needed for Julian to know that he had seen him like this, in case he had a return of the sense of shame which had before hung over him; Garak would be there to counteract it, to demonstrate that this was perfectly fine. Julian began to stir, his eyes fluttering open; Garak could see the split second where he realised what he had been doing, and the he whipped his thumb from his mouth, his gaze uneasy. Garak leaned forward and kissed his mouth briefly before placing his hand on his cheek, brushing over it. Julian looked at him hesitantly.

“I suppose we will need to talk about this more.” 

“I think so.” Garak agreed.

“Is it alright if it isn't immediately? I need some time to gather my thoughts.” 

Garak only nodded again; then they set about preparing themselves to face the day, and Garak watched as Julian set off to the infirmary once more.


	3. Chapter 3

The days continued on, flowing into one another, sometimes indistinguishable – some days were quieter than others, lulling them into the sense that the pre-war time had returned. They would even be able to eat lunch together. The lunches were not quite the same, however. On one occasion Julian had been called away to attend an emergency, and talk of the ongoing attacks and retreats were inevitable, news and rumours buzzed around every part of the station. As Julian also had scarcely any time to read now, Garak would instead have to explain what work it was he himself was currently reading, and attempt to create a discussion from this; other times they would just talk about old favourites, Julian looking amused at Garak's empassioned defence of an obscure Cardassian text. Garak noted that going over and recalling works he knew well and loved appeared to have a calming effect on Julian, and so he encouraged this part of their conversation. Another idea had formed in his mind, and later that evening, a rare day when Julian had not had to stay on later in the infirmary, Garak decided to implement it.

Garak was settled on the sofa, tea to hand, a Padd held before him. Julian flopped down beside him, attempting to find a comfortable position for his long limbs until Garak placed the Padd down, lifted up his blanket, and moved Julian's legs to stretch out on his lap before covering them again, and picking up his Padd once more. Julian wriggled down, head back, supine, his hazel eyes half-closed. Garak kept one hand over Julian's thigh, caressing it through the material.

“I haven't had an evening to just sit with you like this in some time.”

Julian was right, and it had been part of their routine which Garak had treasured; sharing the sofa, they would sit, either side by side, or as time went on, with Julian sprawled on him in some way or other, his head or his legs in his lap, both of them reading, happily absorbed, breaking the silence to read excerpts out loud from their respective Padds, and they would then slowly fall into a sustained discussion.

“And now that we have the chance, I am too tired to even pick up a Padd and read.”

“Well, my dear, I could read to you, if you would like?” Garak said mildly.

Julian smiled. “That would actually be quite nice. I like listening to your voice.”

Garak felt warm at this. He picked up another Padd that he had kept near to hand in the case of this suggestion being taken up by Julian. He began to read – he found himself enjoying the act of reading aloud for his partner, waiting for his reactions, attempting to put the right expression and pacing on the words. It was not long before Julian was ready to query Garak about the work being read to him; it happened quicker than he thought it would.

“Garak, this is very different from the Cardassian works I am familiar with.”

“Oh?”

“Yes; for one, it is even more didactic than usual, if that is possible, and for the other, there is a great deal of repetition of certain words, as if the aim was to train the reader's vocabulary. Garak, are you reading me a book meant for Cardassian children?”

He could not detect any note of defensiveness or indignation in Julian's tone and so he replied: “Yes, one of the more noted works for children in the canon. And yes, of course it is didactic in nature, as is all children's literature, Cardassian or otherwise. On one hand, the text needs to instill Cardassian values in them, and on the other, it does, as you so astutely picked up on, assist in training these young minds in language acquisition.”

Julian snorted. “I suppose I didn't spend enough time reading as a child, or reading the right books, perhaps that's why I was so slow about learning to talk and understand like the others.”

Garak smiled at Julian's self-deprecating remark but felt a twinge of sadness for the young boy Julian had never been allowed to be.

“If it won't wound you too much though, I would rather have you read me some Earth children's stories instead.”

Garak pretended to sigh in defeat. “And even now, I can still not get you to understand the beauty of Cardassian literature.” He replaced the Padd and waited for Julian to pick up one of his own, and after tapping the screen a few times he handed it to Garak.

“'The Secret Garden'”, he read. “By Frances Hodgson Burnett.”

Julian settled back. “This is a favourite of mine. I have lost count of how many times I've read it.”

Garak began to read. He did enjoy works from this era of human literature; the sentence structures and word choices were precise and elegant, and appealed to him. He unexpectedly found himself having great sympathy for the main figure, the child, Mary Lennox. Her rich parents, important British envoys in India, were neglectful and far more interested in themselves and parties than in their daughter. One evening, their house was engulfed by fire, and Mary only surviving the falling in of the walls around her by taking refuge under her parents' bed. Garak experienced only the briefest flashback and fear before both subsided once more; he never faltered whilst reading. He sympathised with Mary's bewilderment at being sent to England, away from the heat and comfort of India, how she struggled with the cold and strange food and people. He too experienced her excitement at finding the secret garden, locked away from the world, only hers to enter, only hers to care for, oh how wonderful to have a garden of one's own to tend to, he thought.

After Julian had fallen asleep, Garak picked up the Padd once more, to continue reading himself late into the night, enchanted by the descriptions of the garden returning to life due to the care of Mary and her new friend, Dickon, a boy who knew all the flowers and plants and could charm any animal. Mary also met her cousin, Colin, a sickly boy, unloved and left indoors in the dark, unable to join in. His mother too had died and it distressed his father too much to look upon him. But Mary and her garden helped heal them too, Colin's health becoming stronger as he spent more time with his new friends in the garden. Colin's father learned to grieve for the loss of his wife and to also allow himself to love his own son in spite of his fear of feeling too much. Mary had found her place too, and was accepted as part of the family. Garak replaced the Padd on his bedside locker and was glad Julian remained soundly asleep, as it would not do to allow him to witness him crying over a children's book – a Terran one at that. Sentimental in my old age, he thought to himself.

\-----------------------------------------

The casualty lists became a dreaded ritual – it was unbearable to witness Julian's face changing as he would scan the list, halting abruptly, supressed pain twisting his features, his eyes dulling over, turning inward somewhere. Antother friend. Another colleague. Another mentor. Friday again. Julian stood before the new lists, scanning them intently. Garak waited off to the side – they would be able to have a lunch date after this. He watched his partner, noting the new gauntness to his face, the tired stance. He was chewing his lip, and then, for the quickest of flashes, his thumb was in his mouth, before he jolted as if from a physical shock, removed it, and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. His gaze met Garak's, flustered, off-kilter. Garak was now certain that after a couple of weeks waiting, Julian would now be ready to talk to him.

Lunch was initially a subdued matter, Julian still twitchy, playing with his food more than eating it. Garak wanted to give him something to focus on.

“We are making good progress with 'The Secret Garden'.”

Julian said nothing.

“I find I like Mary best of the characters. Many qualities to be admired in her; stubborn, resourceful, knows her own mind.”

Julian cocked his head slightly. “She is also judgemental, prickly, proud, and very lonely.”

“Oh, so you don't like her?”

“On the contrary.” His eye became warmer as they fixed themselves on Garak. “I like her very much.Those qualities don't make her a bad person, or unlikeable. Just human. And she softens, in the end, and her reward is that she is no longer lonely.”

Garak tutted dismissively. “And you claimed Cardassian literature was didactic.”

Julian raised his tea to his lips, and then continued. “I do like Mary but I prefer Colin.”

“Colin?” Garak asked, somewhat incredulous.

“Yes, he also has bad qualities. But that is because he's been left alone for so long, shut away from the outside world. He is a weak boy but there isn't actually anything wrong with him, he is just told by others that there is something wrong with him.” He paused. “I think he also cares very much for Mary.”

Garak sniffed. “Sentimental.”

Julian demurred. “Sentiment, yes. Sentimental, no.”

\----------------------------------

How to start such a conversation? Neither of them knew how. Garak was concerned that if he began to talk first, he would be setting the tone, and unintentionally would cause Julian to feel unable to say everything he wanted. His body vibrated with nervous energy as he sat beside him on the sofa. He held his arms stretched out before him, hands clasped, elbows balanced on his legs. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to gather himself to begin talking.

“Elim”. It escaped his mouth as a scared, breathy noise.

“My dearest boy.”

Julian took a few short breaths in and out, followed by a long inhale and exhale. “I have never spoke to anyone about this before, and I suppose I just assumed I never would be able to talk to anyone about this, and that would be that. To actually be here with you now – it is somewhat overwhelming.” He bent forward as if protecting himself from an expected blow. “I believe I am what, on Earth anyhow, is called a little. I don't, uhm, know how aware you are when it comes to more – well, less usual, perhaps is the term, practices when it comes to human relationships but it's part of ah, a -”.

Garak interrupted Julian, not something he had anticipated doing but oh really, this was too much. “I admire you greatly, and care for you even more, but are you trying to tell me that you thought we weren't aware of, or didn't practice, kinks on Cardassia?”

Julian looked up, mouth agape, eyes wide. “No! No, no, no, I just – or, yes, that is to say but – oh, God!” And he laughed at himself, in relief, at the situation, and the tension in the room was cut, and the conversation had somehow been opened. Garak touched the back of his hand briefly to Julian's cheek. “Now that that misconception has been corrected, please continue.”

“Continue?”

“I would very much like to hear more.”

“It – it is something in me, or that I am, I suppose, a layer of me; it is something I want to be, to feel and do, but I am not sure how it all plays out as I have never really been able to explore it.”

“You've never allowed yourself to?”

“No. I just couldn't, really. Something always held me back. What did it say about me if this was something I wanted, and needed? How could I be sure that the person I was with was trustworthy enough to share this with? The only time I allowed myself to try it out was during my student days. It expressed itself as a form of relaxation, but it didn't really work so I abandoned the idea, as much as I didn't want to.”

“I don't understand. If you were being little, that means you are being as a child – how could you do this alone? If you are little, does that not imply the need for there to be someone to care for you?”

Julian's face changed, a sudden surge of emotion apparent in his taut features. “Yes. When I'm little I want someone to care for me. But that has never happened and never could.”

“Julian, if you would allow me, I would care for you during those times.”

“Garak, this is too much, how can you even say that?”

“I don't understand, have I said something wrong?”

“How could you want to see me like that? It wouldn't be role-playing, what I am talking about here. Sometimes I almost wish it were; in an odd way, I think people would understand a sexual fetish easier than this, because that's precisely what it isn't, it isn't sexual for me, it is a part of me. I regress, it isn't a game in that sense, I become a child, a child, Garak, and I want to be little, I want to be cared for as a child, by my partner, how can you not view me as a freak?”

He touched his fingertips to the inside of Julian's wrist; he always enjoyed the contrast of his solid fingers against Julian's willowy forearms. “I really must insist, that no matter what else comes out of this talk tonight, that you stop referring to yourself in such a manner. It pains me to hear it and it is manifestly not true.”

Julian nodded but Garak knew it would only be the first time of many where he would have to repeat this.

“Now, who taught you to hate your own childhood self, who taught you to reject these signs of being a child?”

“My father.”

As Garak had suspected.

“It was as if, even when I was a child, he didn't want to allow me to be one. Initially, it was because he had all these high ambitions for me, so he needed to see me progressing, developing, so he was impatient for me to shed my childishness. Even when, of course, it became apparent that I wasn't developing the way I was supposed to, that I was going backwards. He grew more and more impatient, resentful of what I was. Any sign of my childishness was punished, he equated it with my failure to develop like the other children. He hated Kukalaka, which naturally made me cling all the more to him. I was not only Doctor to him, but his rescuer on many occasions when my father attempted to throw him away. I remember being slapped for sucking my thumb and being laughed at by him for holding Kukalaka when I slept.”

“Our fathers would have seen eye-to-eye on what they considered parenting.” Garak said, not without some bitterness in his voice. Although, he noted only to himself, Tain and Richard Bashir would not have got along in any other way. Tain would have been utterly scathing of the self-important, fast-talking, crass man, lacking in self-awareness. Garak felt himself icily calm, imagining many of the ways in which he could have dealt with this man in his previous life.  
“But this is why I have mixed feelings about it all.”

“How so?”

“Well, it seems, from that perspective, I would be indulging in something as a direct result of my father's actions, and I don't – I don't want to have been formed or deformed by him in such a way.”

Garak tapped the inside of Julian's wrist lightly with his finger. “I only just said I wished you refrain from referring to yourself in such a manner.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” Julian burst out.

“How do you mean?”

“You can't really be this fine, this unfazed by what I am telling you?”

“You are sceptical of my sincerity?”

“No, I just couldn't have ever imagined the conversation going like this.”

“You will have to cease flattering me about how I continue to surprise and exceed your expectations.” He sought to return to the topic at hand. “Julian, we are all inescapably formed to some degree or another by our parents. We all manage it in our own way. It is a vicious circle, and impossible to escape. You can remove yourself from your parents' influence, which is good. But the terrible paradox is that if you attempt to deny this part of you, something which you very much would like, then you are once more allowing your life to be dictated by them. It is a snare either way by that logic, so I think it would be wiser to choose the option which makes you more content, and less miserable.” He paused. “As for your concern that I will no longer be able to consider you in the same light I had up until now, and by that I take it you mean sexually, romantically, well; I am afraid you are wrong there again. I will never understand this peculiarly human insistence on the complete transparency of our selves, our identities. You may complain about how secretive we Cardassians are, but that does enable us to be as many contradictory parts of our selves as we wish to, and we feel no need to somehow unite, reconcile, and harmonise them so that they present a clear whole to the public. Humans seem to have convinced themselves this is something to strive towards when it is not even possible. No-one is one self. Even before this I viewed you in many different roles, and this is not even counting your games in the Holosuites. The whole of you is wonderfully complicated, overlapping – the little part of you is just that, a part of you, and so I see it that way, not as something alone. Do you see me as the addict, only? Do you see me only as I am when I am struggling with an attack of claustrophobia?”

“No, of course not.”

“And how do you feel about me in those moments?”

“I – well, protective, I feel very protective of you, I want to care for you and alleviate your distress somehow.”

“And when we make love after those occasions, do you still see me only in that capacity, are you then forever incapable of finding me desirable?”

“Absolutely not, I thought that much would be obvious!”

“Of course it is self-evident but you won't apply the same criteria to how I feel about you. Many things can be simultaneously true. I am capable of seeing you in all these ways at once but I can also differentiate between them too.”

“I sound very interesting, seen through your eyes.”

“Ah, if only you knew.”

Silence fell for a few beats, and Garak wanted to ask Julian further questions but remained concerned he could come across as interrogating him and so proceeded carefully.

“How does this sense of being little mainfest, if I may ask?”

“You don't need to ask if you can ask.”

“A rather inelegant sentence.”

Julian rolled his eyes at Garak, but the gesture was filled with deep fondness. “I don't quite know how to explain it myself. However, it isn't a role-playing game of some kind, it isn't a pretence that deep down I am aware of as being a pretence. It is me, a part of me that can come to the fore sometimes depending on the circumstances, nevertheless, it is always there, somewhere. I can't say for certain how or what sets it off, it can also be to varying degrees. Sometimes it just colours my manner of thinking and my emotions, how I act, and from there it can run the gamut; other times it just takes over completely, and there is no adult Julian at that point. Often, it is something negative that sets it off which is another aspect of it all that leaves me somewhat hesitant still about exploring this.”

“Even with me here now?”

“Even then, I'm afraid Elim.” Julian's gaze shifted upwards, as if seeking the correct order of words needed there. “If it is something that takes over me in reaction to a negative circumstance or feeling, then would I always want to retreat to that in response? If it is never a response to something positive it says something quite bad to me about that space.”

“But you have never allowed yourself to fully experience it. You have never allowed yourself to be in this space truly. It would follow then, that if you are actively repressing this part of yourself, the only time it can make itself heard is when you are distressed and more vulnerable. Just because the two things correlate does not mean this is how it would always be. Perhaps initially it would be somewhere to go in response to negative situations – but once this was dealt with and that part of you knew it could be allowed out, it then might become part of happier occasions. Still, even if it does remain linked only to periods you denote as negative, it results in something positive, as it enables you to be more content, to find comfort, to feel cared for. Just because something begins as a reaction to a negative situation or emotion does not mean it is in itself negative. I must admit your abilities at pursuing logical arguments to their conclusion is somehow disappointing in this area.”

He could see Julian was struggling to accept his reasonings, he clearly wanted to accept them but could not allow himself to – yet.

“I am trying to reconcile myself to this, Garak. Even hearing myself say all these words out loud seems somewhat surreal still. It just – it seems a fantasy of the worst kind.”

“Ah, now you are contradicting yourself. You said it was a part of yourself, but now it is a fantasy? Come, come.”

“No, I mean -” Julian's voice was frustrated. “Even if it is a part of me, it is a part of me that wants to return to a fantasy. I can't return to my childhood, no matter how much the little part of me takes over. And why in God's name would I want to? It is a fantasy of a childhood I want. My childhood is not a place I want to return to and yet I want to be little, oh, hell.” He closed his eyes, the last part of his sentence having expressed more than he had wanted.

“But you have answered your own question. You don't want to return to your childhood. What you want is to be little. Those are two different things. This will be a different context now. It will not be your childhood. You can be little, with me, and it will not be like your childhood at all.”

Once more it appeared emotion was threatening to overcome Julian. "You are," he started once he had sufficiently recovered himself to be able to talk. "generous beyond what I could have imagined. I still don't believe it will be possible to explore this though, not for quite some time."

"Why ever not?"

"As I haven't ever lived this out before, I don't know how much control I will retain once I am in that space. I can't for certain yet say whether it's a state I would stay in for just a few hours or whether it would go on for an extended period of time. I am not even sure I would be capable of pulling myself out of that space if it was needed, I don't think I would be aware or able to understand enough in order to do so. I am the Chief Medical Officer of a space station during a war. I have a responsibility and a duty of care towards my patients and my colleagues. I cannot risk being sunk so deeply into my little space that I am incapable of pulling myself out of it the moment an emergency happens or another attack befalls us. To allow for that possibility to occur would be a dereliction of my duties."

"So, even now, you still will not be able to allow yourself to explore this yet?"

"It's just not an option now, it isn't even safe or private enough really on this station to engage in it."

"You are, I trust, aware of what others get up to in the Holosuites? They experience no such reservations or qualms."

"But that is the point - I know what they get up to, so do you, so does everyone. This will have to wait some time yet."

Garak did very much see Julian's point, and begrudgingly agreed with him. War - not only bringing about loss of life, but a suspension of life. He admired and respected the Doctor's conscientiousness, his selflessness; he would have performed (and indeed still would perform) similar acts out of devotion to Cardassia. At least he could ensure, and hope, that a seed had been planted, a thought, an opening, something that could not be entirely forgotten about. He needed to be able to get Julian to return to this thought, to find a way back to this space when he feasibly could, when he felt ready to. Garak could not yet fully articulate why he himself was so convinced of the importance of this not only for Julian, but for him, for them both. It was as if he had been presented with a gift as fragile as any orchid, and just as beautiful, and he needed to tend it with care, and the rewards would be manifold.

"Do you remember when Lieutenant Dax was very sick and had to return to Trill in order to be treated?"

"Yes, of course, I was treating her too. Her levels were all off and her condition was worsening rapidly. There was a cover-up on a mass scale by the Trill, the implications of the much greater levels of host compatibility becoming public knowledge were huge. We learned that the symbiont had had another, previously unknown host. They had attempted to erase the memory of him and it was this imbalance that was impacting on Jadzia, he was demanding to be heard." Julian trailed off as he evidently apprehended the reason Garak had asked him to recall this story.

"And then? What happened then?" Garak prompted him.

"They had a ceremony where Jadzia was able to encounter him, acknowledge him, and integrate him into herself and the symbiont. It is what healed them."

"I see that you have already recognised the parallels in your respective situations. You have never allowed your little self to come to the fore, bar some tentative solo experiments. It seems then quite understandable that initially, this little part will be very strong and demanding, as it has not be accepted before. But by integrating it into yourself, it will become more balanced, more biddable, and indeed, another wish you expressed, it would also become a more content space to be in."

"So much of what you say, Elim, makes a terrible amount of sense, I can't deny that." At least he was accepting what he was saying intellectually, if not emotionally - it was a start. "And the idea of it being an integration of a part of me is so very apt, in another way." Garak waited while Julian fell silent again. "When - when I go into my little space, I regress to being about five or six years old, never any older." He swallowed and pressed his lips together before continuing. "I go back to a time when I was pre-augment. Initially, I wondered if I was deluding myself, how would it be medically possible to access that part of me? But I do still retain those childhood memories. But I am not really that child in some ways, and that - that has haunted me all my life. I have always felt that Jules died when I became an augment. But really, Jules is somewhere still inside me. Although I did not grow into the person I was meant to be, it doesn't mean Jules is entirely gone. He's there, and even my enhanced self can't erase him. When I become little, I become Jules. And if I could allow myself to be little, then Jules would be a part of me, properly, and he won't have died completely." Julian's voice failed him, he sniffed, unable to prevent his tears from fallling. He swiped at his face with his hands, trying to scrub them away. Garak stilled his hands and presented him with a perfectly pressed handkerchief. "Of course you have a handkerchief." Julian managed to smile through his tears and cleaned his face, blew his nose, and taking a shaky breath returned his gaze to Garak. He was so sorry for what had been taken from Julian. He hoped his partner would allow him to attempt to help him with this in some way. The image of the imagined young Jules was always distressing to Garak.

"Would you like for me to call you Jules when you are being little?"

"I hadn't actually considered that. I - yes, I would. I think it would be a good demarcation in a way, being called Jules is a good way to know when I am being little, and Julian is for when I'm being big and a grown-up."

Garak considered his follow-up question, uncertain of its impact but decided to press ahead with it anyway. "Then would you yourself wish to call me by any different name when you are Jules?"

Julian smiled broadly, his eyes creasing up with the wonderful lines Garak found so appealing. "I don't think I'm going to call you 'Daddy', I'm afraid, Garak."

"Well, I should think not." he replied. "Do I look like a 'Daddy' to you?"

"I won't answer that. To be honest, no words of that kind feel completely untainted for me. I don't want to think about my father when I'm little. Although he never really wanted to be called anything more affectionate, I imagine he always wanted to be accorded the title 'Father', with all the self-endowed importance of it. I might have to leave that one for the time being, I am not sure how I feel about it."

"That is perfectly reasonable. My dear, seeing as you mentioned the age you become when you are little, could I enquire some more about that and ask you to perhaps elaborate as to how you become when you are little, what you like to do?" 

Julian's skin flushed - talking in very specific and concrete details would seem to prove more tricky for him that the rest of their discussion up to this point. "It is hard to say, by dint of never having done this before."

"Well, Kukalaka is important to Jules, that much is clear."

Julian looked over at Kukalaka, who was observing them from his usual perch. "Oh, you can't imagine just how much. He was my only friend when I was in hospital, getting those treatments. On an average day, I just need to know he's there, that I have him and he is safe. When my little side becomes more pressing, that's when I need to hold on to him."

"I have also noted your recourse to sucking your thumb." 

Julian flushed again, but also snorted, shaking his head. "God, my father detested it. Even I could see how embarrassed he was by having a son that age who sucked his thumb."

Garak wanted to deflect from this more bitter memory. "You also enjoyed being read to."

"Very much so, although I believe I would still enjoy being read to by you anyway. The texts might have to be different. I think if you were to read to me when I'm Jules the intended age group would have to come down a lot, although I would still be happy to listen to your voice, without understanding." Julian laced his fingers together, his shoulders becoming rigid. "This is the other thing. Elim, if I were to pursue this, I cannot say for certain what I will be like as Jules but I have my suspicions and you probably need to be warned what you are letting yourself in for, it would not be fair on you otherwise."

"Doctor, the time for being warned about you before getting involved has long passed by."

"In all seriousness, Garak. I had trouble developing as a child, you are aware of this, it's what led my parents to choose the course of action they did. I regress to being around five or six and I won't be like other children because I wasn't like other children. I have only faint memories of how I was but I can tell you enough to warn you. I could barely talk. Though you're probably thinking, maybe it will be a pleasant surprise, me keeping quiet for once, you might even prefer it that way." Julian said scathingly, his sharpness meant for himself, not for his partner. Garak stroked his thumb against the inside of Julian's wrist once more.

"Now that's the third time already tonight - really, Julian, I keep asking you to not talk about yourself in such a manner. Also, you have no idea how quiet my life was until you came along." 

"But it's true. You will be stuck with a nearly non-verbal little and even the stuff I did manage to say didn't make sense, as I told you, I couldn't reliably tell the difference between a cat and a dog."

"It seems a very minute category of difference. Both are domestic, or wild animals, with fur, tails, and four legs. Really, I can see why it would confuse children."

"Cats and dogs are very different and you know it, don't try to make some convuluted argument just so you can show off."

"But how else do you think I managed to seduce you?"

"Elim, please. I need to feel like I have warned you. I am not sure when I am little that I will always be able to communicate to you what I want or need, or you may not be able to interpret it."

"It may also be a possibility that I will learn to understand you."

"That's more than my own parents ever did." He sighed, deciding himself he did not want to dwell on that aspect. "I think - I would like to play, as a child, but again, my version of play was not that of other children. I didn't really want to play with others, I liked my own games. And I liked doing things in my own certain way and to do them over and over again." 

"Would you like to draw pictures? That is a solitary activity that children enjoy."

"Perhaps. I like the colours, the patterns that can be made, feeling the texture of certain crayons and papers."

"We can easily accomodate that. We can see what other things you like as well, over time. These are all just initial points to consider."

There was a break, and Garak could see Julian was preparing to say something, which was causing him to flush a deeper colour once more, and he was unable to meet his gaze. What could he possibly want to say, after all of this, that he was so worried about, worried about Garak's reaction?

"I didn't develop as quickly as other children, so my five or six was not the same as the typical five or six year old."

"We have already established this." Garak's mind worked swiftly, guessing what he was so embarrassed about.

"Up until my parents sent me away, I still wet the bed." Julian said in the smallest of voices. "And I have to worry that could happen if I spend enough time being little."

"We will take care of it if and when it happens." Garak replied. 

"God, how can you - you're going to be the one sleeping beside me, how can you be so calm about it?" 

"Julian, I have to admit I am slowly becoming somewhat offended by how shallow you seem to believe me to be. Who was with me when I came off of the terrible effects of the implant? How many times have you seen me suffering through the utterly humiliating experience of my claustrophobic attacks? Are you now telling me I was right all along, that I should be ashamed and that you are repelled by it?"

"No! No, no, that's different!"

"I don't see any difference at all, Doctor. I will beg you to stop insulting me in this way. We are partners. It is a question of taking turns, is it not? Now it is my turn to care for you, after all the times you have cared for me." 

Julian looked taken aback at the force of Garak's words. "That's - I apologise. I believe I have very much underestimated you."

"Everyone does." was the arch reply. 

Julian leaned forward and kissed first one eyeridge, then the other. Though it could very much be part of more amourous play, this time the gesture was one of intimacy, and gratitude.


	4. Chapter 4

Both men slept more soundly that night than they had in weeks. They woke early, naturally, feeling rested. Garak felt warm and content beside his lover. Julian once more leaned over to kiss first one eye ridge and then the other, but this time the intent was very different. Julian tipped his head upward, kissing him slowly, liquidly, mouthing over his lips, his jaw, circling back, repeating. It had been some time since they had been able to kiss so passionately, with no time restrictions. Garak's neck ridges tingled, already feeling overly sensitive. When Julian pulled back, he could see how aroused he was, his eyes darker than usual, intensely dark, his lips parted and glistening. Julian rolled Garak onto his back, and he made no sound of protest at this, having learned some time ago that he found it to be incredibly erotic when Julian took charge during sex. He knew his lover would never abuse this power, and he had come to trust that their quarters were indeed as private as they claimed to be. 

Julian had moved to straddle him, a position he knew Garak loved as it allowed him to observe the younger man and Julian was only too happy to oblige. He bent forward, his lips moving over his neck ridges, not quite making contact, his breath teasing him. Garak disliked making any sort of noise during their lovemaking, the complete opposite of Julian, who panted and moaned obscenely, laughing even, and talking, speaking filthy, filthy words, or crying out unselfconsciously when he climaxed. As arousing as it was for him to listen to the noises Julian made, he could not allow himself to behave in a similar manner. Any sounds to be heard from his mouth during sex were usually involuntary, or they were a quick reply to Julian checking in on him.  
This morning Julian's tongue was particularly talented, or perhaps Garak was more receptive, but either way, he was unable to hold back small choked gasps as Julian lavished attention on him. 

“I love this.” Julian said, his voice lower than usual, touching his neck. “Your ridges go a darker shade when you're turned on.”

Garak had no reply to that and so made none, but his chest felt warm at his words. Julian ran his palms over his chest and kept his slim thighs tight to each side of him. Garak would never tire of the contrast their naked bodies made, how Julian's smooth, nut-brown legs appeared against his scaled, grey skin, how the stockiness of his frame, the girth of his torso highlighted even more the wiriness of Julian's body, the seemingly unending length of his limbs. His cock was hard, jutting up from a small tangle of black hair.  
Garak's senses were most stimulated by images, by the visual. There had been occasions where Garak had been brought to the brink by watching Julian masturbating, and he often indulged in bathing with him, watching how he attended to cleaning his beautiful body, basking in his attentions, cat-like. This was what he had missed, this vitality in his partner, this coquettishness, the way he revelled in sex and the physical. Garak had initially found Julian's love of the tactile highly improper, how he relished the smell and taste of his partner's body, feeling shocked at how Julian would shamelessly lick his lips after going down on him, or bury his face in his crotch and inhale the scent there. He would never be as at ease with these expressions of desire as Julian but eventually he had learned to appreciate it in part. But to feel Julian once more actively exploring his body was a sign to Garak that Julian was more himself than he had been in some time, and he could only assume that being able to share so intimately in their discussion last night had made a significant contribution to that. He wondered if Julian himself was aware of this change, and how carrying around this secret fear and shame had impacted on him, on them. 

Julian slid down his body, his lips skimming over Garak's hips before coming to settle on his inner thighs. He knew Julian was fascinated by how this part of him was devoid of scales, softer than any other areas of his skin. His tongue lapped at him, swirling small circles and Garak's cock hardened further in response. Well, he thought, this is a pleasant surprise. He remembered the first time in bed with Julian when he had been unable to maintain an erection and how his sense of inadequacy had caused him to snap at his lover. Thankfully Julian knew him too well and had persisted in his attempts at reassuring him. Eventually he had learned to accept that there was nothing physically wrong with him; he was simply getting older, and this was a part of the process. The thought of artificially inducing a sufficient erection through the usage of shots and potions was distasteful to him. He sought to moderate his Kanar intake (another good reason for doing so) and partake of some moderate exertion. It was not too regular of an occurrence that he could not get hard but it happened more and more as the war had progressed, something which Julian insisted was perfectly normal. “For humans perhaps.” Instead of replying, a glint had flashed in Julian's eyes, and he coyly stated that it just meant they would have to get more inventive and explore alternative methods. Oh, and how. Really, though Garak had set out to seduce Julian (and had apparently succeeded, after some time, albeit), Julian often played the role of seducer in the bedroom. The first time Julian had topped him he had been uncertain (but had not shown it, or rather Julian had allowed him to think so) but once he adjusted and relaxed into it, oh it had been a revelation. It was never certain or established who would take which position on a given occasion, the balance of power continually being negotiated, being changed – it was utterly intoxicating for him. 

He had yet to learn to fully embrace the state of undress that Julian took such pleasure in. On Cardassia, to be naked was to be vulnerable. Clothes expressed power, status, wealth, they concealed and hid, deceived and distracted. A lifetime of this conditioning, and the value he laid upon his own trade, were difficult to unlearn and reassess. For Julian, it seemed not only a sexual pleasure, but a pure enjoyment of, and ease with his own body. Although, if one were forced to cover oneself in the items the Federation deemed acceptable, then he would fully agree that it would be better to go around naked. He often wondered if Julian would attempt to drag him on some kind of nudist holiday in the future. Again, there recently seemed to be fewer and fewer occasions where Julian would move around their quarters in various states of undress.

“I do believe sometimes you would prefer to dispose with clothes altogether.” Garak had observed one time when Julian walked across the room clad in a dressing gown (gifted by Garak), untied, billowing open and rendering the garment useless – functionally useless, aesthetically however, it continued to have one or two things to recommend. 

“And? Why not? The body is a beautiful thing, human, Cardassian, all of them.” 

“There is something very comforting about a doctor who appreciates the body in this way, and doesn't just view it as something to be fixed and maintained.”

Returning to the present moment, with these memories layering, Garak was swept by a sudden stab of love for his Julian. He would give so much to make him happy.  
Julian's tongue had moved lower and was tracing over his perineum, his hot breath against his sensitive skin further heightening his experience. Julian changed his focus, now following the scales going down Garak's cock, tonguing each one experimentally, seeing what reaction this elicited from Garak. He could never admit how anxious he had been the first time they had made love, worried about how Julian would react to his body and to his genitalia. What if he was horrified? But, oh, it had been quite the opposite, and Julian continued to make this clear to his lover at every opportunity. Garak was unsure whether it was due to the length of time since they had last had sex or the sense of reconnection on a deeper level after last night's discussion but he already found himself approaching his climax, which he did not want to happen just yet. He stopped Julian's attentions to his cock, bringing him up for a kiss before he reached to the side for some lubricant. Julian took the opportunity to stroke his weeping hard-on. 

“You want to be inside me?” 

“Oh yes.” Garak managed to get out, his voice thick with desire. His fingers, now coated liberally, massaged Julian's hole, and then he carefully probed him with one finger, and the noises this elicited – Garak adored Julian's voice, the timbre of it, its mellow tones in quiet situations, the excitable way it danced around when he was animated. He wished he could hear him purely, unmediated, without the universal translator. 

“More.” Julian whispered. “More, Elim, please, love.” 

He slowly inserted a second finger, and Julian cried out, his mouth hanging open, eyes closed, breath catching in his throat. This beautiful creature was his lover and Garak still could not fathom it sometimes. Soon Julian was begging again for more and Garak, all the while checking Julian's reactions for any trace of discomfort, obliged him, stretching, scissoring, taking his time in spite of Julian's demands to hurry up. 

“I rather like this pace.” he said, finding Julian's prostate which brought forth a string of repeated curses from him. “Next time, I can set the pace.” he managed to enunciate.

“We will see about that.” Garak removed his fingers, and quickly applied lube to his cock, which he was relieved had maintained its hardness. Julian repositioned himself above him and slowly, slowly, they worked together, so that he could take in more and more; he paused, catching his breath, one hand pressed to Garak's chest for balance. Covering this hand with one of his own and grasping Julian's hip with the other, Garak began to move his own hips against Julian's, their position rendering his movements slow, but Julian began to settle into a rhythm and to push down against him. It was too wonderful, the feeling of Julian's muscles tightly clenched around him, the heat of him, the sensation of each rocking thrust sending further jolts of pleasure through him. Julian came first, crying out with a series of unintelligible noises, his cum covering Garak's torso before he bent forward, kissing him, his limbs beginning to slacken just as Garak's orgasm overtook him, as he spent himself inside Julian. Julian kept his forehead pressed against Garak's, touching the spoon-shaped marking there, his breath greenhouse hot against his skin. He knew Julian would be content to remain in this position for some time, but in spite of how pleasantly satiated he felt, Garak could not ignore the quickly cooling cum on his torso and Julian knew himself that Garak would not tolerate such a state for any longer than necessary. Julian dried him off before they removed themselves to the shower, disagreeing about the temperature of the water, as usual, never quite able to find an ideal solution to this issue except to alternate between what the other wanted. 

“I wonder,” Julian said, the hot water falling onto his shoulders and back. “if this is what it will be like when we are no longer living through a war.”

“Oh, thank you for reminding me Doctor, that there is a war going on.” Garak did not know how else to respond – yes, the war was dreadful, and he hated what it was doing to them all, and he could not allow himself to think of his Cardassia but, at least, during this war, he knew Julian wished to be with him. He did not know what peace would bring.

“I must be good then, if I was able to make you forget there was a war going on.”  
“As good as you indeed are, I am afraid my comment was in jest. I too am unable to entirely push the fact of war from my mind.”

“Well, we should try harder then.” Julian responded, the last part of his sentence lost in the beginnings of kissing Garak. 

\-----------------------

That morning Garak had had to open his shop ten minutes late, and though no one noticed this or commented on it, inwardly he experienced a level of sheepishness at allowing himself to get so carried away with Julian that it interfered with his professional duties. And yet – in this instance he still felt that their extended love-making had been just as important. There was a sense of reawakening, reaffirmation between them. The morning passed quickly in quiet industry, attending to some customers, processing orders, doing admin and stock take, making plans to reorganise the display. Julian had already commed him to apologise as he would not be able to make lunch today, a ship had arrived with civilian casualties from the latest attack, the infirmary had its hands full. Garak took lunch alone, Odo stopping as he passed to exchange a few words. Still felling the aftereffects of this morning he decided to pass by the infirmary before returning to his shop, wanting to briefly see Julian, like a smitten school boy, he chastised himself. He did enjoy being able to witness Julian at work as a doctor – he was decisive, focused, and authoritative in a manner that Garak found enticing. When he saw Julian in his professional capacity, capable, brisk but never abrupt, he realised that he also had a great respect for hs partner. He passed by the infirmary without stopping, Julian not noticing him, the short glimpse enough until later that evening. 

He saw the huddled groups of the injured, the nurses and other doctors working as hard as they could to process them, and make those waiting as comfortable as they could. As he walked towards the shop, something niggled at him. He stopped. One of the injured. Why? What was it that had disturbed him? His instincts and training told him something was very wrong – he turned and made his way to Odo's office. 

“Come.” The gruff voice, reassuring in its unpolished, ordered tones. “Ah, Mr. Garak, what can I do for you?” Odo held a Padd in his hands, tilted down, ready to attend to again once he had dispatched his visitor.

“Constable, the civilian casualties that arrived today – where are they from, which attack?”

“Why?” Odo's attitude had changed, recognising immediately that Garak had something serious to warn him of. 

“One of the patients – I don't believe they are a patient.” Odo said nothing, indicating with his eyes that he should elaborate further and not waste time doing so. “Her clothes. They weren't the clothes of a civilian caught in an attack during all out war.”

“The elite members of societies can also be affected by war by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“No, I do not refer to the quality or style of the clothes, which was average. No. The others – their clothes were torn by the impact of mines, phasers, covered in blood and dirt, sweat, grime, their clothes are in tatters, threads ripped and dangling, ragged.”

“And?”

“This woman -” Now he knew what it was that had disturbed him. “Her clothes were intentionally torn, those were caused by scissors, not by the impact of weapons.”

“Why would someone pretend their clothes -” Odo stood up, not needing to finish his own sentence In the same moment he hit his Comm to send security to the infirmary, Garak turned and thinking only of Julian, ran as fast as he could towards the infirmary, managing only a few feet before an ear-shattering noise broke the air. 

\--------------------------------

He had been flung to the ground, the red alert alarms were blaring, screams and shouts cutting through the noise. He struggled to see far in front of him, the air was thick with grey ash and smoke, the glow of a fire visible in the distance. He staggered to his feet as a group of armed security ran past him. 

Julian. 

He leant against a wall for support, feeling certain that he was not injured, he was impeded only by the loss of his bearings in the aftermath of the explosion. He pressed on, remaining as close to the wall as he could, each step becoming a lot easier as he fully regained his senses. The closer he got to the infirmary, the worse the carnage became, bodies lay on the ground, some unmoving, others screaming, being attended by medical staff. He could even hear the high-pitched wailing of children, inconsolable, and he so terribly wanted to stop and help them but he could not. He passed them, ensuring that they were either being attended to or had someone present with them. He believed that their screams were from fear, though this was of a little consolation. 

He reached the infirmary, carefully edging around fallen debris and exposed fittings, coughing hard in the midst of the smoke. He moved into the operation theatre, seeing an operation table covered in broken beams.

“Doctor!” He called, his voice weakened by the smoke he had inhaled. “Doctor!” and once again as he moved around the room. He sensed movement under the operating table, and coming round to the other side, he found Julian.

“Oh, Julian, Julian.” He fell down beside him. Julian looked at him; he was covered in grey ash, his eyes dull, not seeing Garak at all. His uniform was soaked in blood but it did not appear to be his own. He was holding a young man in his arms, whose left side had clearly been hit hard by the blast, his arm blown off, his leg burned terribly. He was alive somehow, barely.

“I need to be able to treat him.” Julian gasped. “He needs immediate treatment.”

Garak nodded mutely, knowing somehow that the afflicted young man did not have long left to live; perhaps in a fully functioning infirmary he would have had a chance, but not now, when they had just been hit by a bomb. There was no possibility now for Julian to save this poor man. Garak rose, wanting to drag Julian from here but knowing he would not be able to as long as this unfortunate patient lived. Every spark, every noise made Garak fear a further collapse of the structure, a further bomb; they needed to get away from this smoke. He wondered if it would be at least possible to find a hypospray to provide this young man with some pain relief in his final moments.

“Garak!” It was Odo. The Constable stood in the remains of the doorway. “Get out of here, we need to evacuate the area!”

Garak nodded but Odo was already gone, his orders still audible as he went further and further away. He returned his attention to Julian, who remained on the floor under the operating table. The young man in his arms was twitching slightly and blood bubbled from his mouth, pouring out in two lines. Garak sought to fight the rising panic in his chest. Odo had ordered them to evacuate. They needed to leave now, it wasn't safe, any moment the whole structure would collapse and come crashing down on them, trapping them under the rubble, He wanted to run and he would have except for Julian. He tried to regulate his breathing even as his heart rate sped up and his head began to swim. He managed to keep the lightheaded sensation at bay but try as he might he could not calm his breathing. Oh, what were those exercises Julian had shown him? He couldn't remember them. He watched as others ran past, heard distant yells and screams, saw others hobbling by, others being carried out on stretchers.

“Garak!” It was Odo again. “Why are you still here? Was I not clear?”

“Yes, Constable.” He thought it better not to explain that the Doctor was attending to a dying man and would not be moved until then. He looked at Julian once more – his eyes were locked on those of the mutilated man in his arms. His twitching had stilled, the blood had stopped running. Garak attempted to avoid seeing his destroyed limbs but it was impossible. His eyes were open, unseeing. Julian reached and gently closed his eyes for him. 

“We need to let them know that there is a body in here.” He said to himself, it seemed to Garak. 

“We will make sure they know so they can take care of him.” 

Another moment passed. Garak's light-headedness had returned and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. “Please.” Garak managed to enunciate. “Please Julian, we need to leave.”

Julian nodded after a moment as if receiving these words at a slight delay. Garak knelt beside him, fighting against the screaming panic in his head the entire time as he helped Julian in carefully shifting the now deceased man from his arms and onto the floor. Julian placed his one remaining arm on his chest, and then allowed Garak to pull him out from under the table. They went to leave and Julian's legs gave out from under him, Garak managing to catch him in time. He pulled Julian against his side, his arm clamped around him, and with this support in place he was able to keep him just about upright. Their progress from the operating theatre and down the corridor was laborious but as long as they were moving further and further from the source of danger, Garak was able to contain his claustrophobic attack. Julian half-staggered, half was dragged by Garak, his body ragdoll like against him.  
Eventually they reached a safe area, away from the infirmary. It was a makeshift emergency room of sorts, casualties lying on stretchers, others slumped, waiting as the medical staff worked as quickly as they could. Julian did not even react upon seeing this scene of activity and that was when Garak knew something was very wrong. Julian under any other circumstance would have snapped immediately into action, to treat the wounded and assist his staff. Now, however, he just swayed where he stood, his gaze off in the middle distance, looking at an unfocused point and Garak knew if he were to remove his hold that the Doctor would once more fall. 

“Is he injured?” Suddenly Lieutenant Dax was at his side, scanning Julian.

“I don't believe so.”

“He's covered in blood.”

“I am afraid that is the blood of another.”

“Didn't make it?” 

“No.”

“There's a body.” Julian said. “in the infirmary. I didn't get his name. I had only started to assess him when the explosion happened. We need to find his family, we need to take care of the body.”

“We will, Julian, we will.” Dax said, not unkindly. Julian nodded, accepting her answer. She gave him a hypospray. “He's going into shock, you need to get a shock blanket for him from one of the medics, if you can.” She was already gone. 

Garak looked around, managing to catch a medic as they went by, requesting a shock blanket. They returned momentarily with a blanket that Garak wrapped around Julian. He pulled it around himself, seeming to welcome the sensation of being covered by the material. He moved them to a quieter area, sitting down on the ground, out of the way as much as possible. They could not go any further, the station was still being searched, there could be further explosions planned. He thought perhaps he should attempt to talk to Julian, but he was already feeling exposed as it was, sitting here with his trembling lover in his arms, he did not wish for anyone to witness him using private words of comfort to soothe the Doctor. The trembling soon gave way to violent shaking and all Garak could do was hold on to him. At one point, he looked up and saw Captain Sisko surveying the scene, saw how he registered his Chief Medical Officer and the state he was in. Garak just wanted to get them away from all of this, into their quarters, where he could properly attend to Julian. He wanted to get them off this station, away from this war, away from senseless, brutal attacks like this.

“There's a body,” Julian said. “in the infirmary.”

“I know, you told me and Lieutenant Dax as well.”

“I didn't get his name.”

“They'll find out who it was.”

“We need to take care of the body.”

“We will. We will take care of it.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was the day after the explosion; the atmosphere on the station remained muted, suspicious, on high alert for a further attack. Julian had risen at his usual time and set off for the infirmary. Garak had not been entirely happy with this but had not said anything. He went to check on his shop; it had not been in the radius of the bomb, however he found it calming to assure himself that all was in order, and to do his own sweep of the space for any devices. Odo had visited him soon after he arrived.

“Impressive, how you knew that casualty was a terrorist.”

“I did not know exactly that they were a terrorist, I just knew something was not right.”

“Huh.”

“Perhaps it appears suspicious to you that I was able to recognise that an attack was imminent.”

“Not at all.” Odo said. “Rather I wanted to express my admiration for your observation skills.”

“Well, they are important in my line of work.”

“Indeed?” 

“Tailoring relies heavily on observation.”

Odo had left after that and Garak had found himself oddly touched by this expression of appreciation for him. He was somewhat ambivalent about how he had recognised that this one particular casualty had not been what she seemed to be. After all, it had not prevented the explosion from taking place, nor had it helped them to save anyone from being killed. All that would come of it would be the Constable's increase of security measures and other attempts to proof the station against something similar taking place in the future. 

Garak closed the shop for lunch. He was about to make his way to the makeshift infirmary, hastily erected whilst the structure was repaired, when he caught sight of Quark in the doorway of the restaurant, beckoning to him, the ever-present look of long-suffering on his features. 

“Could you please collect the Doctor from my bar?”

“Your bar?”

Garak had no choice but to follow the Ferengi to his establishment, and in the short time it took to get from one to the other his mind had left his initial consternation, and instead settled on grim resignation. 

“He has been there since we opened nearly. He already has the guts of one bottle of brandy in him and he is about to make quick work of the second he has already ordered. Now, normally, I wouldn't be complaining about the presence of such dedicated customers, however, he is beginning to disturb my other customers with his monologues and predictions of doom he seems to tend towards in this state.” 

Quark gestured at the slumped form seated in front of the bar. So now their positions were changed; before it had been the Doctor who had once come to find him at Quark's, drinking himself into a stupor, trying to self-medicate. He could not look back on this time without experiencing painful memories – yet, for all of the suffering he had gone through, it had also signalled a time when he and Julian had become closer. He assessed that situation as quickly as he could. Julian was drunk, and he could not be in this state if he was on duty, therefore something had happened when he had reported for work this morning. His body language was aggressive, restless – he was looking for any excuse to engage with anyone, whether to argue or talk, it would not matter to him. He had no intention of leaving the bar anytime soon but Garak needed to find a way to placate Quark without incurring Julian's ire. He sat down beside him.

“Kanar.” He requested. 

Quark fixed him with a hard stare. 

“I will pay for two bottles in advance but just bring me one glass for the moment.”

The bar keeper appeared mollified, for the moment. Julian down another measure of his brandy and reached for the bottle against to spill himself another drink.  
“May I join you, Doctor?” 

Julian merely nodded. 

His Kanar arrived and he took it and raised the glass to his partner, who desultorily gestured his glass back. 

“You missed lunch so I thought I would come here to you instead.”

Julian's mouth was turned down, further emphasising the new lines dug into his face, his skin was an unhealthy shade (for a human), and he looked exhausted, exhausted but still torn up on the inside by a nervous energy. Garak felt once again so distant from his lover, the reconnection of the previous morning already gone. The Doctor was drifting further and further from him and now the moment had come, he recognised, that if he did not do something drastic then he might lose his dear Julian permanently. Oh, they would stay together, but rather, Julian was in danger of losing himself to this war. 

Julian did not know what to do, that much was apparent. It came off him in waves that he did not want to allow himself to stay still, to have nothing to distract his mind. Captain Sisko must have pulled him from duty for a period. He could not disagree with the Captain's decision but he was somewhat unprepared for the strength of Julian's reaction against it. Physician, heal thyself – Julian would have been the first to make a tough or unpopular call about granting medical leave or rest to members of staff he deemed in need of it, no matter how much they protested or attacked him for it. His decisions were invariably well-judged but now instead of being able to recognise that he was in desperate need of rest, here he was, wrecking himself. Garak had not slept much the previous night, his concern for Julian causing him to repeatedly check on him as he slept heavily, due to the aid of a self-administered hypospray. He hadn't approved of it but Julian had acted too quickly for him to say anything. He had not witnessed Julian self-medicating in such a manner before and it concerned him. Usually Julian would have been the one preventing Garak from such indulgences. It concerned him though he hoped it was a one-off due to the extraordinary circumstances of the day. 

Julian had not responded to him and Garak felt the lack of apology or response. It became clear to Garak in that moment – Julian was struggling to communicate in their usual manner, it was not working for him. What he needed to express could not be done within the usual structures available to him. He needed to allow the other part of him to take over, Jules. Garak thought of their discussion once again and became determined to assist Julian in as far as he could to explore this part of himself. 

“Captain Sisko has put me on leave for over two weeks starting immediately.” 

“Oh.” Garak began formulating an idea, for how to bring about a conducive space for his plan to take place. 

“There's so much work to do, so many casualties to care for from yesterday, more coming in all the time, staff that need to be prepped and trained, and here I am, unable to do a thing to help. He won't even let me do any paper work, as dull as that would be at least I would be assisting in something. I just don't understand.”

Garak saw Chief O'Brien pass the bar, looking at Julian, concerned, then seeing Garak; he nodded, giving him a brief rueful smile before continuing on his way. Julian had not noticed. Word must have been spreading of the Doctor's public session.

“I suppose he thinks he's concerned for me and looking out for me.”

“Do you distrust the Captain's judgement?”

“No.” Julian appeared confused for a moment. “Just, his concern is misplaced, that's all.” 

“He seems to be acting in a pragmatic manner. You are not much good to him if you run yourself into the ground. It is better for the station and for the Federation if you take the rest leave granted and return restored and ready to serve again.”

“I am ready to serve now, Garak.”

He did not respond to this. He could see from the toss of Julian's head that this lack of an answer had been very clearly understood. 

“Perhaps I could go to the counsellor, pretend to have worked on all this, get her to write me a good report.”

“A decent strategy, Doctor. Still, I do take a small bit of offence.”

“At what?” 

“Well, you have just been offered more than two weeks' leave and it doesn't even enter into your head to take advantage of that fully and organise a holiday with me.”

That elicited at least a smirk from Julian. “I am glad my enforced leave will serve your needs.”

“Oh, Doctor, I do believe it would serve your needs too.” He blinked mildly. 

Julian's smirk remained. “And what did you have in mind, Risa?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes, I did. Everyone else gets to go there, I don't see why I shouldn't.”

“What did you have in mind when we get there?”

“I recall we had a long discussion the other night.” Garak said in a low voice. “and I thought this could be the opportunity to look into that.”

Julian's smirk died and he replaced his still full glass on the counter, with some force. 

“No.”

He pushed himself up from the bar, retreating on unsteady feet. Garak followed him to their quarters. 

“Why not, Julian?” He persisted once they were inside their rooms. 

“Why not? Because it's just some sort of pathetic fantasy, twisted, a healthy mind would not have need for it.”

“I disagree. I think that it is a perfectly healthy response and a legitimate need.”

“It isn't a need.” Julian hissed.

“Oh, but it is.” Garak saw that Julian was in a weaker position today, exhausted, still in shock to some degree, made unbalanced by alcohol – he knew he could press his point, get through these defences he had constructed. It was not entirely fair of him, he knew, and he would back off if Julian gave any evidence of being too distressed to consider it. 

“It is a need, my dearest, and you desperately need it, you are craving it, every fibre of you is crying out for it, I can see it. Why can't you let yourself have it or at least try? Why won't you let me help do this for you?” 

Julian's chest rose and fell as his breathing became more and more erratic. His shoulders were hunched up as if he were expecting a blow. “Christ, yes, I want it so much that it is terrifying to me, Elim, to need that, to be so helpless, at the mercy of these irrational emotions. I want it so badly and I'm scared if I let myself fall into that space, God knows how long I will be there for or what I will be like, what I will experience and put myself through.”

“You don't need to do it alone.”

Julian shook his head rigorously. “I'm too drunk to have this conversation.” He went to his kit bag, fumbling for a hypospray. After he had used it, he sighed. “In a few minutes I should be free of most of the effects of the alcohol.”

Garak nodded and seated himself, waiting. Julian paced the room. Garak took it as a good sign that he wanted to sober up for the conversation, to undo the numbing effects of the liquer. Julian sat down beside him and took Garak's hand, squeezing.

“I know I wouldn't be doing this alone. Which is overwhelming to me, I can't pretend otherwise.”

“I can empathise with that.”

“There's a lot I am still unsure of it and don't understand. If we do go, I don't know what will happen.”

“That sounds reasonable. We can leave the space to explore it, if you wish. If you try it and don't want to engage in it any further, that is also fine. Either way, we shall be on holiday together and you can rest.”

“Oh God, Garak, our first holiday together and I am asking you to potentially spend two weeks indulging a regressed child.”

Garak tapped the inside of Julian's wrist. 

“I know, I know, I said I wouldn't talk about myself like this but really, your first holiday with me could just become two weeks of caring for your partner, it sounds like it's asking a lot of you and will be utterly boring for you.”

“You appear to be searching for excuses again.” 

Julian smiled weakly. “Alright, But only if you promise me we can find some isolated accommodation, away from the main resort of Risa. I don't want to potentially inflict this on any unsuspecting holiday goers who come across us.”  
“I can make the arrangements for us.”

Julian pressed his cheek against Garak's. He wished he could fill this silence by telling Julian how much he cared for him, how much he loved him. He hoped Julian knew.

\----------------------

Garak took over organising the holiday, something made easier in a way by the ongoing war. Risa's visitor numbers were very low and not only was it easy to reserve a place for two at that late date, he further managed to wrangle private accommodation, a small unit away from the main bustle of the pleasure resort. There was a planned shut down and upgrading of the weather system during that time which further meant a day of their time on the planet would be spent in its natural stormy conditions, a factor which added to the ease with which Garak was able to secure such a holiday home for them. After booking them passage on a ship the next day, Garak set about packing, decisively and neatly putting together clothes, Padds, and other necessary items. He could not help but look forward to the trip – in spite of the context in which it would happen. He anticipated the feeling of heat on his scales, of being comfortably warm enough. This was tempered by his ever present worry for Julian, as well as his apprehension about how their relationship would fare outside the confines of the space station. 

Julian seemed unable to focus on the task at hand, and purposelessly picked up some items to pack only to put them away again. Garak decided to take over, and coming up beside Julian began to methodically sort through what he would need, chatting inconsequently about the items he chose and why, folding them into Julian's bag. Julian's reaction intrigued Garak – he appeared perfectly content to have Garak take over in such a manner, and he was quiet and complacent. He considered this and found himself wondering if this was a part of Julian's other self presenting itself. Children wanted to do what they were told, was Garak's experience, the responsibility lay with the adult figure to not demand something unreasonable. He thought of how he had spent his childhood trying to hard to please Tain and carry out his orders and inevitably falling short. He imagined the young Jules, knowing he was disappointing his parents by not being able to do what they wanted, not understanding that they were wrong, and what they thought they had a right to demand from him was wrong too. He filed away the newly acquired information of how he should act with Jules in this regard. Garak felt he was being presented with a great responsibility, and it touched him.

He looked at Julian. “My dear, aren't you forgetting someone?” 

Julian's eyes were wide, not knowing what he could have forgotten. 

“We can't go on holiday without Kukalaka.”

A shy smile spread across Julian's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He retrieved Kukalaka, plus hat and scarf, placing him carefully in his bag, and a warmth burned in Garak at the sight.  
Once they were finished with their preparations, Julian went out to meet Chief O'Brien in his quarters which pleased Garak – the Chief had a good effect on Julian. Garak was also glad to have an opportuniy to spend some time alone studying efore embarking on this journey with Julian, and not purely in the sense of the holiday to Risa. After ensuring that his searches could not be traced and would be wiped from the memory of the computer, Garak began to familiarise himself with some resources he could find on the concepts he and Julian had discussed. The aim was not of exhaustive research, as approaching this academically would not be of great benefit for them, it would be about focusing on Julian and how it manifested for him. However, he knew it would be wise if he had some idea of what they were getting into and in this way, hopefully ensure that he would not inadvertently distress him due to his ignorance, no matter how well his intentions might be. Their long discussion had certainly covered a lot of ground and Garak had a sense of what it was Julian needed, and the role Garak was to play in it. A caregiver. The warmth returned again, burning in his chest. He had never really been in a position to care for someone before, and never for someone so important to him. Sentiment, his mind warned him, a life-long script that he could not yet drown out entirely or dismiss. Yes, they were making themselves vulnerable but Garak did not know what else they could do. Julian needed this and he would give it to him in the securest possible environment. He could not bear to watch Julian suffer and struggle much longer. It was like witnessing how the threads on a rope began to snap one by one, the pressure increasing as the resources became fewer and fewer.


	6. Chapter 6

Oh, the heat. The heat. Garak's body hadn't been this relaxed in years. Yes, the light was a touch too bright but he could happily put up with that. He felt tension leaving his muscles, built up over months and months, even his very bones seemed to be infused with the goodness of the heat. Upon reaching their holiday unit and being rid of their receptionist who had welcomed them and given them a brief tour of the resort and what was on offer, Garak had immediately entered the bedroom and changed his clothes – something lighter, looser but still well-cut, brighter colours, bold blocks. Julian too after looking around their accommodation had changed, donning a garish ensemble. Garak sighed. However, no matter how atrocious his clothes were, one thing they could not disguise was the beauty of his long, lithe body. Julian caught his appreciative glance and kissed him, his arms encircling Garak's waist.  
They did not quite know what to do with themselves. Something unspoken hung in the air between them, the question of how this holiday would develop, how the little part of it might begin or the topic be broached. For once again, now that he was so close to having it, Julian had backed off, not able to accept it.

They walked around the beaches, Garak delighting in the hot sand; they ate together, sitting outside their little holiday home, and as he sipped at a glass of Kanar, he found himself seized by the ridiculous thought of how deeply he wanted their old age together to be like this, sitting outside on a warm evening (a Cardassian evening, his foolish heart running away with him entirely), sharing dinner, talking, or in companionable silence, holding hands, or not – together. Maybe one day he would be able to tell Julian what he imagined for them.

The sun began to fade and they moved indoors.

“Elim?” Julian's voice was quiet. “Could – you read to me for a while?”

Garak brushed Julian's cheek with his thumb. “I would enjoy nothing more. What should we have tonight?”

Garak settled himself on the sofa, so much more luxurious than what they had in their quarters on the station. Julian stretched out his legs across Garak's lap, their chosen position for these reading sessions. They had finished with “The Secret Garden” and needed a new work.

“Could you read 'Black Beauty'?”

Garak carassed Julian's thighs, never tiring of how they felt. “'Black Beauty'.” he repeated, pulling up the right text and beginning to read.  
Terran children's literature had so far proven much more to Garak's liking than their adult counterparts, Julian was well aware of this and teased him about it on a regular basis. This did not prevent him from also engaging in serious debate and discussion about these works. Julian was also amused by how much Garak interacted with these works, coming to them with no previous knowledge of them.

“These were considered classics of their time, and many still read them or at least are familiar with them. They're just part of the culture, part of being a child.”

“Did you parents read them to you?” It was always uncertain ground with Julian to mention his family but Garak had dared it on that occasion and Julian had been in a receptive mood.

“Well, my mother did. Or tried to. I found it difficult to focus on a story for a long period of time. I didn't understand a lot of the words. Some of these works were too hard for me to grasp.”

Garak had made a mental note that the reading material he selected for Julian if and when he was in little space would need to be adjusted appropriately for his age, and had a potential list. Julian seemed particularly to enjoy works that featured Terran animals so Garak made sure to include these.

“My father never had the patience for it. He was a busy man. Also he thought reading to me wasn't helpful, I needed to sit and read on my own in order for it to be useful to me.”

Garak found himself beset by the sharp memory of his childhood study – the desk and hard-backed chair where he was made to sit and work through texts and lessons beyond his ability, fighting with them and himself in order to master them and then be able to demonstrate to his father how well he had processed them. It would have been nice to read some Terran children's literature about talking animals.

“Elim?” Julian interrupted him as he read. Garak put the Padd to one side and rubbed his palms slowly up and down Julian's thighs. “Yes, dear?”

“If you were still actively...a tailor, on Cardassia,” Garak tilted his head, amused by this phrasing. “and you were in the position you were in before, how would you make use of the secrets I divulged to you the other night?”

“Hm.” Garak looked straight ahead, pressing his lips together, giving the impression he was considering how to answer this question whilst he was actually attempting to work out what Julian really meant by it, what question he was not asking but implying. There was a part of him that did not fully trust him, was the first answer that presented itself. Before, this would have been an easy explanation to accept; however, so much had changed for them. He couldn't interpret this question through his Cardassian point of view and upbringing, he had to interpret it as something Julian had put to him. An expression of the fear he continued to feel, which held him back? An acknowledgement of Garak's history, his past, and Julian's acceptance of it? Yes. Yes – it was a reminder to Garak, that Julian accepted all of him, his sentimental Doctor, and a need to check and be certain Garak in turn accepted him completely, that he accepted all of him, little side included. It was a plea as well, to not hurt him as he had been before. Garak was not angered by Julian's insecurity in this – it was not a reproach to Garak, but rather an expression of the marks left by his upbringing.

“Well,” he began lightly. “I would ensure that you were aware that I possessed your secrets and that I was furthermore prepared to use them. I wouldn't have concrete proof except for your word, so that would be an issue you might possibly take a gamble on – people may simply not believe me. I, likewise, could take a gamble that your own reaction to the exposure would be enough to confirm the hearsay. However, you forget one very important aspect to your advantage.”

“Which is?”

“That you know a great many things I would wish to keep from public knowledge.”

“Secrets, in other words.”

“Indeed. So, in that, we are balanced and equal, and it would be risky to a high degree for me to attempt to use your secret in order to gain leverage over you when you could do exactly the same to me.”

“Elim.” Garak could tell by a slight change in Julian's demeanour that they were no longer indulging in a joke or a hypothetical discussion. Whatever he was about to say was very serious. “Do you believe there is a reason for secrets to be that, to be secret?”

“I am not quite sure I follow.”

Julian shifted, and Garak could feel his muscles tense. “We keep certain things secret because we fear what it would mean for us were they to be exposed to the public. Should that not then be an indication that whatever our secrets are, they are in fact wrong, by the very fact that we need to keep them in the dark, that we feel shame over them?” Julian's eyes shone earnestly. He was asking him to tell him that his secret need was not shameful, Garak understood. They had had a similar conversation once before but he clearly needed further reassurance. He considered his answer before responding.

“There are many reasons for keeping something secret, and self-preservation is one of them, and not a bad one. There can be other individual reasons for keeping something secret – the person may not be ready to confront it, whatever it is, and when the time is right for them, they can address it. Or it can be self-sacrificing, keeping a secret to prevent someone else from being hurt. Also, there is a great difference between something being a secret and something simply being private. Some things need to be private, it is the quality which makes them so important to us. You and I share a bed, and I mean that literally, that we sleep in the same bed. The beauty of it is that it is private, just between us. It would lose that quality if it were public or shared. What we have together in private, you and I, is indeed a secret, but a secret shared between us, and there is wonderful intimacy in that.”

Julian's eyes had softened while Garak spoke. “I do love listening to you talk like this, Elim.”

Garak hoped he had been able to somewhat assuage Julian's fears and concerns; however, as with his tendency to talk about himself in a disparaging manner, he knew it would take repeated and consistent reinforcements to begin to convince him of the sincerity and truth of his words.

They retired to bed soon after, Julian dropped off to sleep quite quickly whilst Garak remained awake for a time longer, going over the occurrences of the past few weeks, revisiting the mental notes he had made, adding the insights from that evening's conversations. Julian had not taken Kukalaka to bed with him, though Garak had expected that he would. He would be there when Julian needed him, Garak and Kukalaka both.

Garak slept heavily, dreamless, waking naturally to the stream of warm light coming in the windows of their room. He turned to look at Julian – he was curled on his side, knees drawn up, thumb loosely in his mouth. His hair was tousled and fluffy, his dark eyelashes soft against his cheek, dark circles still visible beneath his eyes. Garak moved nearer towards his sleeping lover and stopped, having encountered something distinctly wet. Already knowing what had happened, and realising that this event would certainly force the issue that remained unspoken, Garak pulled back the blankets, saw a large wet patch spread out under Julian, his boxer shorts which he used as pyjamas in warm weather were soaked through, and a sharp ammonia tang hit his nostrils. He knew he would have to wake Julian up, and he did not know how he would react to realising what had happened. He would have to keep a quiet tone, and make sure Julian did not think he was at all angry or repelled. He truly didn't experience any sense of disgust at this occurrence, rather a powerful protective instinct beat in him, a desire to care for him, to attend to him. He touched Julian's shoulders and shook him gently, calling his name. Julian woke up groggily, pulled from a deep sleep. Garak could see the moment when he realised what had happened – he sat upright, moaning to himself, and shockingly to Garak, held an arm above his head as if to ward off an expected blow.

  
_He was old enough now, his father told him as he locked the cupboard door, to face the consequences of his unacceptable behaviour. It was the first time that this had happened and young Elim was frightened but could not allow himself to be, could not allow himself to appear frightened even though there was no one else in the cupboard who could see him. This way, his father said, he would be forced to consider what he had done, and what he had failed to do, and only when Tain considered it had been long enough would he allow him out again. Elim sat, his back against the wall as he tried to think of what he had done and had not done. His thoughts were distracted by the growing fear that his father would not return to let him out. It seemed as if hours had passed. There was not a sound, he was utterly alone. His breath was panicked and fast, he couldn't get enough air in this cupboard. He needed to focus on what he had done wrong, and on what he hadn't done. If he did that then his father would have to let him out. He kept his eyes shut, pretending that he wasn't in this tiny space and it only helped a little. More time passed, he couldn't tell how much but now his thoughts were broken by the insistently growing pressure in his bladder. He kept his legs pressed together and as time wore on without his father's return, he resorted to holding his hands against his crotch. As young as he was, somehow he was aware that his father had done this intentionally, his aim to humiliate him as much as possible so that this first internment in the cupboard would forever be imprinted in his mind. The inevitable happened as the young Elim could only hold it for so long and eventually he lost control of himself, the sound of the gushing liquid unbearably loud in the quiet small space. He sat, wet and hotly ashamed, but also with a seed of anger towards his father establishing itself in him. When his father finally unlocked the cupboard door, the look of satisfaction and triumph on his face was unmistakable._

Garak repeated Julian's name over and over, softly, not touching him. After a few moments, Julian lowered his arm and managed to look sideways at Garak, shame and panic written on his face. Where was Julian now? What childhood memory had been awakened by this? Garak understood all too well the power such memories held. No matter how many years passed his claustrophobic attacks instantly and uncontrollably returned him to being a small child, and now witnessing Julian's struggles, other memories were touched on in a visceral manner to a degree he had not been prepared for. Now he had some better understanding for the trepidation Julian experienced at his need for little space – to regress back to this age for him meant having to re-experience these feelings. Now was not a time for anger, justified as he believed as he was in his rage at Julian's parents. He held out his hand to Julian.

“Come, my dear, you will feel better after a wash.”

He stood up hesitantly, reluctant but willing to follow Garak, something he noted to himself. They entered the bathroom and Garak swiftly divested himself of his own nightwear. “You – aren't going to share the shower with me?”

“Why not? We often have on previous occasions.”

“This is different, I need to get clean before I can touch you.”

Julian looked so small in spite of being taller than him. He held his arms around himself, hunched forward. Garak approached him.

“It does not bother me in the slightest. Will I help you off with those?”

Before Julian could protest, Garak had slipped his wet boxers down, asking Julian to step out of them, which he obeyed mechanically. Garak put them together with his nightwear and bundled the whole lot into the sonic laundry for good measure. He would take care of the bedclothes afterwards. Turning on the shower to a temperature bearable for Julian, he stepped inside, guiding his partner in as well. The facilities here were luxurious indeed, and the shower had clearly been conceived of for more than one occupant at a time. He picked from the array of unguents on offer and began to rub Julian's limbs with it, whilst he stood and received Garak's attentions; he felt some of the tension leaving his body beneath his touch. Once they were both refreshed, Garak quickly gathered the bedclothes into the laundry and replaced them with fresh ones. By the time they sat outside for breakfast at the table Garak was fast beginning to consider his favourite spot, Julian had regained his composure and Garak knew he had to talk to him now, before he got too far away from how he had been this morning.

“How did your parents manage your accidents?”

Julian put down his tea cup and failed to meet his eyes. He shook his head. “I don't know about manage. I would wake up in the morning and it was usually my father who came to check on me and he would get so angry, he couldn't believe this was still happening at my age. He liked to throw the bedclothes over me, as if it would somehow train me.”

Like a dog, Garak thought darkly to himself.

“A few times he would lose the run of himself and slap me for it but my mother would intervene then.”

“But that isn't managing it.” Garak controlled himself enough to subdue his anger.

“Well, I suppose they thought that since a child my age shouldn't be having accidents like that it just had to stop, it wasn't a case of curing it, it just shouldn't happen and I would have to comply somehow.”

“Not a great strategy on their part.” He said dismissing them. “However, if this is going to happen again, shouldn't we have something in place to make things more comfortable?”

“Elim, my parents couldn't cure me of this, I don't know how long it would've gone on for if I hadn't been sent off to be enhanced.”

“I am not suggesting that this needs to be cured. It isn't an illness. I meant only that it can be managed so that things are more comfortable for you. We could put down protective sheets or get protective wear for you.”

Julian hunched forward again, his face flushed deeply and remained silent, not moving. Garak knew addressing the issue this directly was overwhelming for him.

“Julian, will you please let me take care of you?”

Julian knew what he meant by this and he shook his head vigorously. “I'm sorry, I'm just not able yet, I can't accept it.”

Garak sighed inwardly but put his hand over Julian's and stroked along his knuckles. He loved him so much and wished he would let him demonstrate it to him in this way but he knew not to push him. He was very nearly there himself.

The rest of the day was muted somehow. Julian was quiet; Garak noted this along with his increasing clumsiness, how he failed to judge distances, inevitably bumping against a chair or low table, knocking things over, becoming more and more frustrated with himself, cursing.  
Garak was on holiday and so he enjoyed an afternoon of reading for pure pleasure, a teapot and cup at his elbow, seated at his new favourite table in their little courtyard. Julian was restless, but Garak knew he could not help him with this.  
He waited for Julian to ask to be read to by him in the evening, however the request never came. He was denying himself this as a reaction to what had happened last night. He was surprised at how much he missed reading to Julian, having his legs in his lap. He even wanted to know what happened next in 'Black Beauty', and share it with his partner.

  
Garak struggled to fall asleep that night. He lay awake for a long time, running through his mental notes and lists once again (too dangerous to even write anything down, even if it was in code, and he had long trained his memory for such tasks). He meditated on how seeing Julian as he was this morning had impacted on him and found himself focusing on how he could experience such an intense desire to care for him, knowing that he also felt such powerful sexual desire for the man under other circumstances, and how these things were held in balance and could exist, overlaid but not necessarily overlapping. Julian began to move beside him, whimpering, his face scrunched up in a bad dream. Garak had expected those after these long months of war and particularly the explosion on the station. He did not know whether he should wake the younger man or whether he needed to go through the bad dream. His movements slowly stilled again and his thumb had once more found its way to his mouth. After this, Garak was able to drop off to sleep, but was woken again what seemed like only a short time later. Confused, he sought to find what had disturbed him from his sleep, and he realised that Julian had had an accident and this time the wet patch had very much reached Garak. He knew now was the moment to finally push the issue. He shook Julian awake with difficulty.

“Elim, what's the matter, why -”

Then the realisation of what had happened. This time instead of raising his arm in protection, Julian gave a stuttering sob.

“Julian.” Garak put his hands on either side of his face. “Please let me take care of you.”

Julian stifled a further sob, and managed to nod his head several times. Garak felt great relief at this nod, this acceptance.

“From now on, I will take the best care of you that I can.”

The sobs became a wail and Garak realised that now he was in fact dealing with Jules, and not Julian.


	7. Chapter 7

Jules' wails were increasing in volume and Garak knew this would continue to escalate into an uncontrollable fit. He had done some other reading secretly when Julian had had to reveal that he was an augment, and the reasons for his parents choosing this action. He sensed from his description what had been the issue and it appalled Garak that this was something that Julian's parents had wanted to change forcibly, to erase. Julian had sometimes requested, if it was a bad day or a stressful time, to have Garak cover him, press down on him with his body weight. He found it soothing, he had said. Garak now lay on top of Jules, distributing his weight across him evenly, getting wetter in the process but this was of little consequence. Jules' insistent wails began to lose their strength and soon enough he lay quiet beneath Garak, his chest hitching with tears only intermittently. Garak looked at the slight figure of his partner below him and realised he would soon need to assess what Jules would and would not be capable of doing for himself – and he had to operate from the assumption that Jules would not be able to communicate to him verbally. Garak tentatively reached out a hand to stroke Jules' hair; he leaned into the touch.

“Now, Jules, let's get ourselves sorted out so we can go back to bed again.”

He helped Jules get shakily to his feet and they made their way into the bathroom. Garak hummed softly as he attended to Jules in the shower. Only yesterday morning had they been in a similar position, but now it was quite different. Garak found a robe to cover Jules in for the moment, seating him on an armchair before he took care of the bed. Once the fresh sheets were laid and the others put into the wash, Garak went to the replicator and collected the supplies he would require; he also picked up Kukalaka and placed the small bear in Jules' arms. He clutched him tight, fear evident in his eyes, and Garak suspected it was a mixture between Jules' childhood fears and Julian's fears at the unknown situation and powerless position he was currently in. The only aspect of this which surprised Garak was how easily he took to his new role, and he decided that was something to think over another day. In no time, he had Jules taped into a diaper and dressed in the softest, lightest blue pyjamas his tailoring skills had been capable of producing, a gift on a previous occasion. He lay down beside Jules and pulled him to his chest – his heart was absolutely pounding still, and it was some time before they both fell back asleep.

\-----------------------------------------

Garak awoke late in the morning, needing the extra hours of rest after the broken night's sleep. Jules was already awake and completely immersed in tracing the patterns on the blanket whilst alternately 'talking' to Kukalaka every so often. Garak listened for a bit, not finding a great deal of what Jules was saying to be coherent. He noted with interest that Jules' voice was higher-pitched now, and even in the meaningless syllables, Garak could perceive that the pace of his talking was now faster.

“Good morning, Jules.” He made to push himself up on his elbows. The change in Jules at realising he was awake made Garak's heart clench – his eyes widened, shining happily, a grin on his face as he clambered on top of him, preventing him from sitting up any further. Oh, he was an enchanting child. How could anyone have seen this and decided it needed to be altered? Jules had moved his attention from the patterns on the blanket to the many ridges and scales on Garak's face and body. He submitted to Jules' touch – he seemed to really enjoy the sensation of his cartilage under his fingers. Even when he touched his very sensitive neck ridges, he did not experience any untoward arousal; it was as if his body understood on some instinctive level that this was a different context and a sexual reaction would not be in order.

“You like my ridges and scales?” He asked, indicating towards them.

Jules nodded, making some little noises as well. Garak was quickly beginning to comprehend that though he may not be able to say a great deal, Jules certainly understood a lot, and also, Garak understood that this was a happier version of the little boy who had emerged last night, and his comfortableness in chattering and making noises to himself was an indication of how well he felt. With Jules in this position on top of him, he could feel how his diaper was heavy with wetness. A routine would need to be established, for however long Jules remained in this little space. Everything took a little bit more time now with his Jules. Tain's impatient voice echoed in his head, scornful of how pointless it was to waste time on children, it wasn't helping them, they shouldn't be humoured, they needed to learn as easily and as quickly as possible. And how the young Elim had struggled so very hard to ensure to keep to the pace his father deemed acceptable, whether that was in terms of physically being able to keep pace with him as they strode across the city streets or whether it was mentally, in terms of how fast his son was to understand concepts and develop. Garak looked into Jules' face as he helped him to dress, wondering what he himself had looked like as a child – he was not aware of any surviving photographic images, unless his mother had them safely hidden. In spite of often being visited by unwanted memories of being a child, those were subjective feelings, experienced in the first person. He could not, from an adult point of view, imagine himself as a young child, he could not think that he had even once been as small as he imagined Jules had been, that he had also been vulnerable. He could not imagine himself as the small Cardassian he had once been because his adult experiences and understanding wanted to feel sorry for this little Cardassian, and he could not accept that he needed to feel sorry for his childhood self. Perhaps then, Julian was braver than him in this manner, though he would not see it that way. There was so much now that he wanted to talk to Julian about, and he knew it would have to wait until he was back from this very deep little space. Before he would not have even acknowledged such emotions in himself, let alone experience the need to talk to another being about them. However, if Julian could trust him, Elim Garak, to the extent that he felt he could safely be this little with him then he would have to try and match his lover's bravery. And though he found it too hard currently to think of himself as a small child, he would return to it and learn to, learn to feel more compassion for this small Cardassian.

Dressing Jules took some time – he had not expected that certain items of clothing would be met with such a negative reaction. Garak sought a common factor between them, noting their colour and material, their texture. After much trial and error, he accepted something very soft, light, and loose. Did he not like the sensation of the clothes on his skin, or did he dislike feeling as if he was restricted by his attire? If this was how Jules felt about clothes then Garak quickly understood this would extend to more areas of Jules' little self. Food. He considered what he could possibly like, and knew once he had established this he should stick to it as much as possible, that variance would not be welcomed. He attempted to recall what Julian would eat when he was stressed or tired, in need of comfort, a state which Garak imagined brought him closer to his little space than usual. There was a Terran breakfast dish of porridge he had seen Julian consume, with a lot of honey. Texture. He was glad then that Jules liked the texture of his scales and ridges, otherwise things would have been in a most unfortunate state. He replicated the porridge with honey for Jules, and took some satisfaction in seeing how much he enjoyed it. He partook of tea and scones for himself, and sat, content, at his table outdoors, the morning sun on Risa easing aches he had not been aware he had had. Once he was finished, Garak found himself with a lap full of Jules, curling his arms around his neck, Kukalaka hanging precariously from one hand. He was so light. Garak placed his hands at the small of his back to hold him securely. He felt unexpectedly emotional at Jules' evident desire and need to be close to him, and to express his affection for him in such an open manner. He petted Jules' hair as he seemed to like this. Garak was very conscious that he did not want to inadvertently distress the boy, and that unwanted touches would bring about such a reaction.

“Oh, my little one.” The words slipped out of his mouth, and though he experienced a certain shock at how naturally they came to him, Jules liked hearing this and nuzzled further against Garak, sighing deeply. He felt that Julian was more himself now as Jules than he had been for months.

“How shall we spend our day, hm?” He asked Jules. Garak thought at some point they could visit the secluded beach near their accommodation, away from where most of the other guests on Risa gathered. It was odd to think of the people closer to the centre of the resort, frequenting the bars and massage parlours, the hotels with jacuzzies and dark rooms. However, as far as he could tell, there was significantly fewer visitors than usual, the resort would have been much quieter no matter where they stayed on it. Still, Garak did not want anyone intruding upon this precious time with his partner. For today, he decided they should stay close to their accommodation, not to overwhelm Jules on his first day.

“Now,” He rose, setting Jules down, and moved towards the items he had replicated and gathered in preparation. Jules took his hand as they went.

“These are all for you, my little one. I hope there's something here you will like. If there isn't, we can work on finding something you like better.”

Jules hung behind Garak uncertainly, holding firmly to his hand, Kukalaka raised to his face, as if in shyness. Spread out were toys that Garak had replicated. There were a great deal of colourful blocks, and other bright shapes, there were some toy old Terran vehicles as well. There was a stack of large pieces of paper in different colours and there were plentiful crayons, markers, and other instruments for applying colour. Though he knew of Jules' liking for animals, he had not replicated any further stuffed toys, sensing that there was only one for Jules and that any others would be ignored.

  
“They're all for you.” Garak repeated when Jules still did not venture towards his new playthings. Was his adult self attempting to break to the surface, baulking at the step of allowing himself to play with toys? Garak released Jules' hand and moved towards the doors, pulling them open so that the light came in and they could sit between the room and the sheltered courtyard looking out on the ocean. He decided he would busy himself with something and let Jules approach his toys in his own time. He gathered up his swatches and other dressmaker's material and seated himself in a garden chair in the courtyard, near to where Jules and his toys were. If he had been a younger man, he would have simply seated himself on the floor in order to be closer to his boy and to his perspective, but alas, his muscles would not allow for this. For some time he had had in mind a new shirt for Julian, new items for himself, as well as the still attractive idea of fashioning further outfits for Kukalaka. He flipped through some samples, his eye drawn to a particular shade of teal – but what material? As he began to focus on his project, he felt Jules sit down on the ground beside him. He looked over to see Jules' eyes fastened on his clothing samples and material; he held out the teal sample to him.

“What do you think? Do you like this colour? I was going to make something for you to wear.” Anything to get him away from those hideous Federation clothes, anything. Jules rubbed his fingers over the material, making no reply – something had caught his attention and he was focused on that now. This was something he had witnessed in Julian as well, it was as if a switch was flicked and blinkers descended. He would be oblivious to the world around him and would react very abruptly if anyone attempted to break in upon his concentration and distract him.

Garak began cutting the teal material, laying out various shapes, considering what to pair it with, a strong pattern would be set off nicely against it. He turned to look at Jules – he had lain down on the floor, his long legs sprawled out behind him, Kukalaka carefully placed beside him. He had pulled some of the paper towards him and was making his first marks on the paper, having found the crayon closest to the colour of the material Garak was currently working on. His first strokes were hesitant, more of a dabbing, as if he were dipping his toe into water, testing. He seemed as if he was afraid to mess it up somehow, that he would do something wrong. He was colouring as if someone was watching him, whether that was his remembered adult self or some bad experience from childhood.

“That is a lovely colour, Jules.”

He saw how Jules tucked his head down, pleased by this comment. Garak filed this away. Perhaps some forms of praise or encouragement would be most welcome to his little boy. He continued making vague strokes on the paper, now selecting other crayons, in violet, brightest pink, deep warm yellow. There were no discernible shapes so far, rather an interplay of colours, different swirling patterns emerging, an abstract creation. His strokes became bigger and bolder as his confidence grew, and his clear enjoyment, the lines beginning to move across the whole sheet of paper now, becoming broader and messier. He wondered what Julian's parents had made of their child's artwork – they had probably expected the stick figures produced by children ubiquitously across species, though the form of the stick figures varied from place to place due to obvious physical differences. They had expected the crudely rendered drawings of the nuclear family, mother, father, child – a recognition of the supposedly harmonious unit the child was part of, indicating that the child already understood themselves, their identity in relation to this family structure. They had expected him to put his signature on the drawings in big printed letters, Julian Bashir, as big as the picture itself nearly, once again showing that he had internalised their values as to what was important, that he existed in relation to them, and was not just himself, his own being. They had expected him to draw himself as a stick figure, and learn to work himself into fitting this frame. Instead they had received these creations, utterly Jules' own, an expression of how his mind worked, a mind that didn't function along these normative stick figure lines, and so was rejected. Because they didn't want to understand or couldn't themselves think differently, they decided that the fault lay with their little boy. None of the other children brought home pictures like these, dense, abstract patterns, no recognisable figures or family.

Garak knew it was easier to view Julian's father as the more villainous party of his parents but he did not see it that way. For one, the man was too limited and vulgar to ever be truly villainous. However, Garak found much to criticise in Julian's mother's behaviour and attitude. Just because she was softer about her rejection of her son's difference, just because she made it all about herself, Jules' struggle to fit into a system clearly not created for children like him in mind, she made it about how it affected her and caused her sorrow, did not make her any less vicious in Garak's mind. He understood that it would be quite difficult for Julian to come to accept this if he was ever presented with such a viewpoint. However, if tending to an injured Kukalaka had been the young Jules' first experience with care and compassion, his mother had further taught him empathy and self-sacrifice unintentionally, through the assertion that her emotional well-being depended on Jules' development and how he was perceived by others, and how this reflected on the family. Julian had every right to reproach his father and mother for what they had done but instead of being allowed to do this, to do what he should have rightfully be entitled to, his mother had wept at the first sign of Julian's anger, making it about how it had all affected her again, and kind Julian had then fallen silent, embracing his mother, at the expense of his own pain. Ach, Garak cursed inwardly. He had managed to make a tear in the pattern he was shaping. He paused, taking a few deep breaths. However, he too had been indulging in the same mistake as Julian's mother by centring his own feelings of anger. Perhaps it would be unfair to burden Julian with these thoughts of his – however, he wished that he could know Garak was on his side, he and Julian against the world if need be, now and always.

A mocking voice echoed in his head, and he was uncertain whether it was his own or Tain's, and he feared the answer was that it was a bit of both. He would never be able to disentangle himself fully from Tain's impact on him, though at least if he worked hard enough at it he would be free from his influence. The voice was insistent however, almost as if it were the voice he adopted when interrogating others, except now this was turned against himself.

_Don't you remember, Elim? Don't you remember grown men crying out for their mothers, irrationally begging for mercy somehow from the woman who had cared for them and cherished them? You reduced them to that state, that bare existence, you have tortured people back into their childhood selves, yelling out for mothers long dead who could no longer hear them, let alone help. That's what you have done. Not forgetting the actual children you interrogated. And if your Doctor had been brought before you while you were still in a position of power, that is what you would have inflicted on him in your search for information, you would have shattered him utterly, he wouldn't even have been able to call out for his mother, he would have been only able to cry and scream and there would have been no Kukalaka with him, only you attempting to extract information from a broken child. Like you extracted information from so many others you broke._

In spite of the heat, he felt sickly cold, light-headed. The memories of his past were something he wished he could just not think of but that would have been too easy on him. He kept the memory of those he interrogated, kept them with him and when he felt close to full sentimental happiness, he would take them out and remind himself what he was capable of. Indeed, was he justified in his sense of righteous anger towards Julian's parents? However, he had still proven that he was worth Julian's affections and that had to count for something. But the screams of those he had interrogated told him otherwise.

Some time must have passed since he fell into this reverie, for Jules was seated at his feet, thumb in his mouth, making a soft keening noise, rocking back and forth. Garak took a deep breath and cleared his face, if not his mind. He had to be careful not to distress the boy unintentionally as he clearly just had.

“Oh Jules, I was daydreaming, I apologise.” He bent forward and stroked his hair. Jules leaned into the touch and rested his head against Garak's knee, in need of reassurance.

“I would never hurt you. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

Jules' keening petered out. The voices and memories began to fade from Garak's mind and he found himself completely in this moment, thinking that he must indeed be worth something to earn the trust of this little boy.

The rest of the day passed sweetly, almost too sweetly, for Garak found time sped along, hours and minutes not divided in the way they had been when he was working on the station, nor were they like the war-time, a tense unending now, a consciousness of each moment ticking into the next, not knowing what would come after each and every second. Now, however, time did not need to be measured and so it went by pleasantly, unnoticed.

They had shared hot chocolates in the early afternoon, and then had made an exploration of some of the land near their accommodation, inland, where tall trees grew and open fields were filled with exotic wild plants and flowers. In the evening, Garak had settled on the sofa to read to Jules, and instead of having his long limbs stretched out across him, he found himself with Jules half on his lap, curled up at his side, Kukalaka pressed protectively against his tummy. Garak produced the old-fashioned physical books and Jules' eyes danced with unadulterated delight. They were large, with small pieces of texts and many beautiful drawings of animals.

“I must tell you, Jules, this will be an education for me as well, as I have never read the works of” He checked the cover. “Beatrix Potter. I hope she will be to your liking.”

There was something wonderful about holding these books in his hands as physical items and their elaborate picture pages. Julian had been content to be read to and though it had been Terran children's literature, he had still been bigger than he was now, and Garak had anticipated the need for texts with lovely pictures, not just a Padd to engage Jules. He was very taken with the stories, and though the drawings of Peter Rabbit were very fine and depicted a charming fellow, Garak found himself initially sympathising with Farmer McGregor whose orderly vegetables had been upturned. Jules seemed to like his voice and Garak did flatter himself that his tones were pleasant enough to listen to. He had to admit part of him found it difficult to adjust to the absence of Julian's voice. Though Jules made sounds, there were very few words among them. The way the Doctor would express himself was an unending source of joy for Garak, and dare he admit it, very arousing to him. Once Julian had twigged this, it had been game over for Garak; Julian would mercilessly whisper the most graphic things in his ear or would drop his voice to a low, and slow, caress, and Garak was flustered at how aroused he was by this. But Jules did not need to induce these feelings in him, so perhaps it was better this way. Also, Jules had other ways of communicating, just as Julian did, Garak was quickly learning. Jules' eyes were as expressive as his adult self's, his body language was very clear, and amongst the sounds he made, Garak could soon pick out what they sought to convey (though he had never envisaged his training in code-breaking would be applied in such a manner).

“Now.” He said closing the book and turning to face Jules. “We should consider preparing you for bed, hm?”

Garak instinctively felt that Jules would need to adhere to a timetable more suited to a young child, and this would include earlier bed times – which would not only be of benefit to his little boy but also to the Doctor, who for months now had been chronically under slept. Garak hoped that he could catch up a great deal on this over their holiday. Furthermore, if Jules was going to be around for a sustained period of time, Garak was going to need some time to himself in the evenings, even just to sit and process what had happened during the day, and to be in his own company, as he found some solitude was necessary to his own well-being.

He was finding out what Jules was and was not capable of doing for himself. He needed some assistance with getting dressed and undressed, however if he put the toothpaste on the brush for him, he happily took care of this task himself. And though he had no issues during the day, he knew his little one would not be able to stay dry during the night. He did not resist being padded up, and indeed Garak sensed that this provided welcome extra comfort and security for him. Once he was in his soft blue pyjamas, he saw him into bed and pulled the light blanket up around him. His eyes were already half-closed and Garak kissed his hair and heard Jules sigh, the word “Papa” falling from his mouth. Garak was once again shocked but not shocked. He felt warm having this name bestowed upon him by Jules – he had never believed he would be called 'Papa' by any child, and hearing it now, he realised he deeply, and had for a long time now, wished for it. Papa. Garak had never used such a term of endearment for Tain. Even attempting to connect such a word with the man he knew was so incongruous as to be laughable.

 _Besides Elim,_ the voice of Tain overlapped with his own. _Just because you want it, doesn't mean it could happen or be reciprocated. Who would want you as a father?_

“Just because you didn't want me as a son, doesn't follow that -” He silenced himself once he realised he was talking out loud to himself in front of Jules. Ensuring that his boy was well on his way to sleep, he removed himself from the room, sorted a glass of Kanar, and took up his favourite position at the small table in the courtyard – darkness was falling, yet the air remained warm. He needed, and wanted, as much of this heat that he could get before they had to return to the station; he tried not to think how it would be even harder to put up with the cold on DS9 after the respite of Risa's warmth, as it had once been increasingly difficult to return to the unfiltered harshness of life without the endorphins from his implant. He hoped Julian would not experience a similar shock at having to return to his adult life on the station.


	8. Chapter 8

As Garak had somehow instinctively known, the following days proved that Jules was going to be around for an extended period of time, and so a routine established itself in the first week of their holiday. The mornings began with Garak getting Jules out of his wet night-time diaper and then sharing ablutions, usually in a bath, where they would take their time, Garak luxuriating in soaping Jules' skin, Jules focused on the feeling of the water. Once dried and dressed, he would get breakfast for them, porridge with honey as always for Jules, whereas Garak was working through all those sweet morning dishes he would normally attempt not to indulge in. After this, he would work on his clothes, Jules near him, engrossed in his drawings, which were becoming bigger, wilder, and more and more complicated, his enjoyment increasing with his confidence and lack of self-consciousness. He would sit by Garak at some point, his eyes fixated on the fabrics he was working with, and Garak would find himself discoursing on them, what he liked about them, the cut, the colours, the item he was working on, what project he wanted to begin next, what he thought would do well in the shop. Before lunch he liked to produce something small he had quickly created for Kukalaka and watch Jules' delight as Garak dressed his bear in a new jacket or pants. He soon had quite a fashionable little wardrobe to choose from.

_Young Elim watched as Mila attended to the dishes in the kitchen. These were the best meal times, when his father was away from home, and Mila would give into his wheedling, allowing him to eat in the kitchen with her for company while she worked. Tain never wanted him to talk to their housekeeper beyond giving orders; Elim imagined he knew the reason why his father wanted to keep her away from him, and this, of course, made him want all the more to spend time with her, and he was fast at learning how to employ lies and subterfuge, as well as how to play upon Mila's own feelings, which not only served to achieve his objective in being with her but also further confirmed to him the truth of what he believed their relationship to be. These were always good evenings – she would make sure to prepare a dish he particularly like and then force third helpings on him, smiling as he ate up. They did not talk much, both holding back for fear of what could unintentionally be said, be revealed and out of Elim's apprehension that the wrong word would somehow bring about the end of these meetings. Once she had completed her tasks around the kitchen she would allow herself a cup of tea, sitting across from Elim, pouring him one too. Initially he did not care for the taste but recognising that she enjoyed it and that it presented an opportunity to be closer, he acted as if he found the tea wonderful, and after a time he did learn to like it just as she did._

_He drank from his cup, observing the cracked, red skin on Mila's hands, her hair stuffed under her cap with pins, her face soft and fleshy, powdered lightly. He considered her the head of the house, even though he knew full well it was his father who wielded the power. Yet in his heart, he liked to imagine the house as Mila's, and as his. Not his father's. One day. One day, it would be theirs. He would share that with her._

_“You should have a big, dramatic dress, that reaches the floor and trails out behind you.” Elim said._

_Mila smiled at this. “Whatever for, Elim? It isn't as if I go to any big parties that would require something so fancy.”_

_“No, it isn't for a party. It is for here, for the house. You would walk through the hallways, and the dress would swish and rustle across the floor as you moved, and your keys could hang from a belt, and everyone would know it was you coming.”_

_“And where would I get such an outfit, hm?”_

_“I will make it for you.”_

_Her face softened; she was used to his behaviour which attempted to conform with his father's wishes, and so she could tell when he was being sincere, or not, and though they both knew he couldn't ever present her with such a dress, knowing what Tain's reaction upon finding out would be; but she knew he meant it. And so she began to teach him how to sew._

These memories were all too close to the surface now; events and remembrances long buried crowded in on him, involuntarily, on a daily basis. He had to be attentive when these visitations occurred, to make sure to not drift too far away from the present, to not let Jules see the unsettled state the return of these experiences had on him. He could deal with those later, but Jules needed his immediate attention at this time. There had been a handful of what Garak termed attacks, where something would distress Jules, and before he could work out what it was or soothe him, his boy would begin yelling, his hands to his head. Garak would employ the tested tactic of weighting Jules down with his own body, which calmed him, and he would be left trying to deduce what had happened – sometimes he could work it out, other times he couldn't. Part of him wished that he too could yell during bad times, perhaps not in such an uncontrolled manner though. He found himself thinking of “The Secret Garden”, and Mary's cousin, Colin, who would have so-called 'fits', screaming himself sick, and Mary would deal with him in a practical way, demonstrating that what he was upset over was simply not true. A fear grew in Garak's stomach, one that he consistently sought to push away, but of course, denial is a retroactive process, a mark of recognition. What would happen when Julian came out of this space, and became Doctor Bashir again? Would the sense of vulnerability from being this defenceless and little with him mean their relationship, instead of being strengthened, would be damaged? What if the shame from before returned, and even just looking at Garak would cause the Doctor to recall what he had allowed his lover to bear witness to? What if he wanted to leave him and felt he never could because he was beholden to Garak for this secret, for this perceived power he held? Garak would never do such a thing to Julian but he would understand if that was how he felt, for that type of manipulation had indeed been part of his past, had it not? He could not bear the thought. It made him nauseous to even consider it, yet he was aware he could not control whatever potential reaction Julian would have when he left little space and began to process what he had experienced.

\--

Garak found himself taking great enjoyment in witnessing Jules at play; his drawings were unusual and had a quality of beauty to them in such a way that it surprised Garak to think of how terrible Julian's taste in clothes was. He watched as Jules began to play with his blocks and shapes, and the wooden models of old Terran vehicles. It was like a ritual for him, he would line the vehicles up in a particular order every day, and try as he might, Garak could not yet discern what the logic to the pattern was. He treated the blocks in a similar manner, repeatedly creating the same patterns and shapes over and over.

They spent time in the afternoons on the quiet, near empty beach close to their accommodation. Garak would bask in the retained heat on the sand and rocks, whilst Jules explored all around, using his hands, sitting at the water's edge, dabbling his fingers in it, watching the waves, or sinking his fingers deep into the wet sand, enjoying the sensations the differing textures brought. He took to making designs and patterns on the sand with his hands, and Garak managed to convince Jules that it would be better if Kukalaka stayed near him and away from the ocean at such times. Garak dreaded to even consider what would happen to Jules if Kukalaka was lost.

They took meandering strolls through the adjacent fields and forest, where Jules would become distracted by every flower and plant, and he would reach for Garak's hand, indicating that he wanted to hear about it, and Garak happily obliged his little boy, and spoke about the names of these wonderful blooms, pointing out their colours, and how they attracted pollinators, about what they could be used for, what meanings they had. He would end up often recounting anecdotes from his time as a gardener. Jules would hang on his every word, carefully touching the delicate petals and leaves of the flower in question.

_Elim adored greenhouses, initially because they were even hotter than the atmosphere outside, and even for a Cardassian, his love of heat was pronounced; he would seek it out at every opportunity. He began to pay attention to the things being grown in them too, and soon found himself nursing a love of orchids. He did like pretty things, and instinctively he knew to keep this hidden from his father. It was best to not allow him to know of his likes and dislikes, otherwise they would be used against him. He knew he was being trained for his adult life but he still believed his father took an extra delight in using anything he could against his son. One day, his father asked him to meet him in the green house, and as he approached, Elim was apprehensive; though he had recently become talented as hiding what he felt._

_“What purpose do you think flowers fulfil?” He put to Elim, with no preamble._

_He considered a moment. “Decoration.”_

_His father scoffed. “Literal. I see that the Cardassian literature I get you to read is wasted on you.” This stung Elim, as he adored the Cardassian works he was given to read, and here was father saying they were wasted on him, that he hadn't learned the correct lesson from him. What had he done, or not done this time?_

_“Flowers are useless, but it is their manner of surviving that is of note, and worth. They dissimulate, they evolve themselves into attractive shapes and colours, giving off enticing scents, tailored specifically to who they want to bring to them. They make the pollinators believe they are the ones benefiting by taking from them but this is precisely what the flower wants them to do. Do you understand?”_

_“Yes. I do.”_

_His father was silent and Elim knew this meant he expected him to say something, that a further realisation was expected of him. His father sighed, seeing that he had not come to the conclusion that had been expected of him. One day Elim would learn to hit this moving target, he swore to himself he would._

_“Since you are incapable of coming up with it yourself, I will this occasion explain to you the obvious shortcoming of the flower's strengths.”_

_Elim waited._

_“It stupidly cannot understand there are others who can see through their tactics, and also stupidly believes that everyone will play by their strategies and rules.” Tain opened his hand and systematically, slowly, crushed the orchids, one by one, between his fingers. Elim watched as the beautiful, fragile blooms fell in bruised clumps on the greenhouse floor._

He caught himself, and breathing deeply brought his focus back to the present moment. Jules had stopped looking at the flowers and was regarding Garak with a confused, uncertain expression, thumb firmly in his mouth, fingers hooked under his nose. “Papa?”

He smiled at Jules, and reached out to touch his finger to his chin. “Sometimes I think I really will make enquiries with Mrs. O'Brien about procuring a small place to grow flowers on the station. Perhaps she would be interested in my familiarity with Cardassian flora.”

He had got into the habit of selecting a few blooms, in a way that did not endanger or damage the flowers, and taking them back to their accommodation, where he would arrange them in a vase on his favourite courtyard table. Once, out of sheer whimsy, he had also made a daisy chain for Kukalaka, which delighted Jules. Garak found he continually wanted to give Jules things, anything, any kind of small token or present, if only to see that expression of pure joy on his face. He worried he was going to spoil his little boy, but then reasoned with himself that Jules deserved to be spoiled a little bit, and he had no one else to bring gifts to, and he did enjoy giving gifts; had gift giving and exchanges not always been a part of their relationship from the very beginning?

After dinner, Garak would read to Jules – it fast became one of the most enjoyable parts of the day for him. Jules would be becoming tired, a little sleepy after the day and the meal just consumed. He would snuggle into Garak, gripping on to him tightly, sometimes resting his head on his shoulder, keeping close. The nearness of Jules, and his desire to be so close to him soothed and softened something inside Garak he had not been aware needed this touch. How could it be that what Julian had so desperately needed was somehow also what Garak so badly needed?

They read many stories about animals, for Jules remained mostly disinterested in anything concerning people. They read the Beatrix Potter books, and from there they went on to “The Wind in the Willows”; Jules seemed to like Ratty best whilst Garak preferred Badger, and whilst Jules found Toad amusing, Garak could not yet find him sympathetic, but perhaps that would change as the story went on. Then it would be time for Jules to sleep – the extra hours sleeping were having a very good effect on him, the shadows under his eyes were even beginning to fade. Garak hoped this extra sleep could be stored somehow to help Julian get through another stretch of the war. He would help getting Jules ready for bed, taping him into a diaper and putting his pyjamas on. He would kiss his boy good night and then spend a quiet hour or so sitting in the courtyard, with a glass of Kanar, considering the day, considering the past, and trying hard not to consider the future.

\--

The day of the scheduled rain break came; it was announced on their screens that morning on what Garak assumed was a resort-wide broadcast. They were ten days into their holiday now, the greater part of it behind them. Instead of allowing himself to become concerned about what would happen if the holiday came to an end and Julian had not yet come out of his Little space, Garak wondered how Jules would react to the imminent strormy weather and was a little bit irritated that this blissful period of heat would have to be interrupted. The storm hit in the afternoon – the weather systems had been shut down in order to allow them to be rebooted and they would be back online in a short period. However, until then, they would have to experience the true environment of Risa. There was a shatteringly loud thunder clap, and the dark skies opened, pouring down an unceasing deluge. There would be no time spent out at his favourite table in the courtyard today, Garak sighed to himself. Further thunder boomed, so loud Garak was certain he felt it shake his body. The house was big enough, he told himself firmly. And though it wouldn't be particularly advisable, he could indeed go outside if he wished to, this wasn't the space station. The house was big enough, he repeated to himself. The thunder was so loud though.

“Jules?” He called out above the thunder claps, moving through the rooms. He found him on the floor in the bedroom, rocking back and forth, hands clutched to his head – an attack was imminent and Garak cursed himself for not having assumed this and prepared for Jules having this reaction. He began to scream and could not stop. Garak got down beside him, hoping he could help him through this somehow – was it the noise that distressed him to this degree or was it the sudden change in their quiet routine? Or was Julian making his presence felt, the thunder claps reminding him of the noise of war and battle, of bomb explosions and weapons firing? Garak was powerless in the face of the force of this attack – Jules' breath was coming in stuttering, gulping intervals, the power of his uncontrollable screaming leaving him unable to get enough air, which could only be making him feel worse. Garak called his name over and over but worried that creating more noise was only adding to the problem. He tried to press his weight on top of him but this time, Jules fought against him, catching Garak off guard as this had not happened before. He thrashed on the floor and attempted to hit him, and it was with great difficulty he could defend himself against his augmented strength. His screaming continued and now he turned on himself, clawing at his own face, Garak panting as he scrabbled to hold down his hands and stop him from hurting himself further, he had already drawn blood. He tried again to press down on Jules' body with his own, and this time he succeeded, and he managed to hold his still struggling boy down, and he hoped fervently he was doing the right thing. He stopped screaming, and his breathing remained shallow and fast, Garak could feel the hammer of Jules' heart and how his chest rose frantically; he was still in the grip of whatever panic had seized him. He felt a sudden wet warmth beneath him, and realised Jules was wetting himself, he heard the dull pattering of his urine against the floor. He had gone limp but Garak did not yet move, uncertain how Jules would react, or even where he was at that moment. For although he had gone still and quiet, Garak remained worried – his eyes were glassy, as if he were suffering a kind of shock. Something had happened to Jules and Garak did not yet know what it was. He waited a few more moments, allowing his little boy's breathing to slow, and tentatively touched his fingers to Jules' hair and received no protest but no other response either. Garak rolled carefully off of Jules, releasing him, and he did not react. He began to call his name again, softly, but Jules only turned on his side and curled up, his thin little body beginning to tremble, the aftershocks of his attack setting in now. Awkwardly, he managed to gather Jules' boneless frame to him and reach the bathroom. He removed Jules' soiled clothes, and instead of getting him into the shower, he sat him on the closed toilet, and took a cloth dampened with hot water and soap and cleaned him this way. Once he dried him, he did not consider for too long before deciding it would best to pad him up earlier this evening. This accomplished, he wrapped Jules in a heavy dressing gown for warmth. He quickly stripped his own clothes, cleaned and dressed himself, and returned to Jules, and cleaned the scratches on his face then; the evidence of how he had so violently turned against himself left Garak uneasy. He held his still trembling frame against him, and rubbed his hands up and down briskly over Jules, wanting to create some body heat, worrying that his cooler body temperature would not be of much assistance. He helped Jules into his pyjamas, and then into bed; leaving for a moment to swiftly clean the floor, and then he replicated a cup of warm, overly sweet tea, and he sat beside Jules on their bed. He held the cup to his lips, supporting his neck, helping him to drink the liquid. He covered him up with the blanket and placed Kukalaka in his arms, whom he gripped instinctively. He leaned against Garak, and he put his arms around him, rocking him slightly, not knowing still what had just happened, worried.

“Oh, Jules.” Garak felt tired out, his limbs heavy and weak after what had taken place. “I wish I understood better, I apologise.”

He had had the briefest of moments where he wished Julian would come to the surface and tell him in words what was wrong, what was going on in his mind, but then he dismissed it. His poor boy must have had to endure so many reactions like this – from his parents, his teachers, wanting Jules to make himself understandable on their terms, and never seeking to put themselves in the place of understanding Jules in his own way. This was his partner, the one who had bestowed forgiveness upon him when he had been in such need of it, and who cared for him, in spite of his knowledge (or suspicions) about his past and his deeds. Garak had, initially upon meeting Julian, been bewildered by his earnest empathy, and had experienced conflicting reactions when he himself became the object of its gentle strength and firm kindness. He wanted to scoff at it, use it somehow, but he also wanted to believe in it, to accept it, put it some place inside of him that he been cold and empty until this point. Perhaps he had learned too much and yet not enough from Julian. He knew he should not think of their relationship in terms of repayments or debts, yet he was certainly in Julian's debt and he very much wanted to repay this many times over to him.

The thunder stopped. The silence in its absence was gigantic, almost obscene. It took Garak what seemed like a full minute to readjust to the usual noises of their accommodation, the light breeze outside, the far away calls by Risean birds. An announcement came on their screen, resort-wide, to inform them the planned weather system's outage was now concluded and that they apologised for the inconvenience caused. Garak snorted at this.

Jules' trembling had stilled and he didn't resist Garak's arms around him. He was so quiet and Garak missed his little noises, but missed them mostly as the sign of Jules' contentment and feeling of security. Not knowing what else to do, Garak picked up one of the picture books on the bedside cabinet, and opened one of the Beatrix Potter books they had already read together on this holiday – he hoped something familiar would help to ground him.

“'The Tailor of Gloucester',” he began, not knowing how much Jules was taking in, but hoping that the sound of his voice, and the remembered accompanying routine would give him enough to hold onto. Garak had indulgently imagined to himself that Jules enjoyed this story particularly as it concerned a tailor, but in all likelihood it was rather the beautiful, intricate drawings of the patterned waistcoats and frockcoats that had engaged him so much.

That night Garak fell into a deep sleep, exhaustion overtaking him – he was torn from his slumber by Jules' cries, in the throes of a nightmare, thrashing in the bed. He shook him awake and then held him as he wept against his chest, and Garak tried to imagine what terrible visions haunted him; not the war, what if he was re-experiencing the time of his augment treatments?

“You are staying here, my darling boy, you are not going anywhere.” He tried to say this in the tone he had heard Julian use with nervous or vulnerable patients. “You are staying here, with me.”

The way Jules cried made his stomach feel hollow; they were the cries of a child who had cried for so long and had received no response, no comfort, had been left alone to deal with something overwhelming. How often had Jules cried and received no comfort, no human touch when he had been treated in the hospital and subjected to those treatments?


	9. Chapter 9

The morning found them both groggy from the interrupted night's sleep, and the events of the previous day. There were only a few nights left to them on their holiday. On this morning, Jules did not amuse himself with exploring Garak's ridges and scales. He had retreated inside himself, Garak realised. Something had sent him hiding away from the world, even too much for him as a child. He would not be able to reach Jules in this current state. He had to wait, and allow him to process whatever it was that his distressed mind was dealing with. Garak experienced a certain loneliness at this – he missed the Jules he had got to know. He did understand that this was also Jules, but he was hit hard by how much he had learned to take joy and companionship in the way little Jules had acted with him. Garak kissed his temple, and sat up, deciding that the best way to deal with this was to attempt to focus on their established routine. But not only was Jules listless, he seemed helpless, not capable of what he had been before. Garak recalled something Julian had said to him the evening they had had their in-depth discussion about his little space, that he never became any older than five or six when he was little. This then implied that if he never became older than a certain age, he could also become younger than five or six. Had last night succeeded in causing Jules to regress even further? It seemed the plausible argument and Garak was going to proceed as if this hypothesis was correct. Before, he had just needed some assistance in getting dressed, now he was defeated by the task. Garak further assessed Jules would need to remain padded up during the day as well as during the night. In the course of the morning, this action proved the right one – Jules was now incapable of remaining dry in the day-time. He struggled in maintaining a grip on eating utensils and so Garak pulled his chair closer to him at the table, and slowly began to feed him, focused fiercely on the task, and experiencing an irrational sense of accomplishment when the bowl of porridge was empty. Being able to dedicate himself to caring for him in this manner helped to offset the gnawing unease that something had snapped in Julian and he was not coming back for some time. Garak repeated to himself over and over that he had to put his trust in Julian and that the Doctor would come back from this, sooner or later. 

Today Jules had little interest in playing, or in flowers, the beach, not even in drawing. He just wanted to be with him, and Kukalaka, and could not be physically parted from either of them. Garak took up his usual chair, and keeping Jules beside him, attempted to work on some small bits and pieces – the mechanical work of sewing cleared his mind and relaxed him, and Jules apparently took some enjoyment from watching his regular movements as he worked. At first, he had been concerned his boy would become bored and restless with this lack of activities and games but he was content and quiet in his blankness, and Garak once more told himself to trust Jules, to trust Julian somehow knew what he needed, and all he could do as his partner now was to facilitate this and keep him safe.

After lunch, tiredness overcame Garak, the effects of the previous night's broken sleep, and he decided a nap would be good for both of them, and so he guided Jules to the bedroom, and settled them in the bed, he curved around Jules, Jules hugging Kukalaka. They slept soundly for an hour or so, and Garak was the first to wake. To prolong the renewed physical closeness, he raised himself into an upright seated position and gently brought Jules up as well, cradling him from behind, his arms wrapped around him, his boy braced against his chest, nestled between his legs. He kept his breathing slow and deep, and he rocked him gently, petting his hair, feeling him becoming limp under his hands, but not as he had been in the aftermath of the attack last night; rather the tension was beginning to leave him, and though he was by no means relaxed or recovered from yesterday, he was at least reacting more now, welcoming Garak's touch.

The Jules Garak had come to know over the past days had changed – though he was affectionate in the evenings and before bed, the rest of the time he seemed angry, and aggressive, not at all the content little boy he had encountered before. He was destructive, unpredictable, and violent, towards Garak and towards himself. There was no longer chatter, there were only angry sounds. He did not want to draw any pictures, he wanted to tear the paper up, upturn the crayons and markers, create a mess; if he did at all put crayon to paper it was only to dig hard jagged lines into the sheets, tearing through to the other side. He would then discard these in a heap and leave them, and Garak had to clean up after him. The only thing Jules did not take his anger out on was Kukalaka – his bear remained as ever his source of security and comfort. Talking to Jules had no impact – he no longer wanted to listen, he would turn his head from Garak, and if he attempted to stop him, he would first seek to wriggle away and if this did not succeed, he would hit out.

Garak was reminded less of himself as a child, and more of himself when he entered puberty. He had heard Julian talking about human teenagers and had been amused at such a concept, as there was no such equivalent on Cardassia. His education and upbringing at the hands of Tain, combined with the onset of puberty, had proven a powerful cocktail for Garak. Oh, how Mila had despaired of him. He had become a bully, practicing all he had learned from Tain on his less capable schoolmates, becoming a despised figure among his peers and those younger than him. When these actions did not win the secretly hoped for respect or approval, or at the very least acknowledgement from his father, he took those feelings out on those weaker than him, and though it never helped him or provided the sense of relief he hoped for, he did at least gain a petty satisfaction from it, a sense of power and superiority. It had been one of the irrational aspects of himself he had not been able to master – he knew before going on such an attack that it would not solve the true issue, but he did it anyway, every time. And as he could barely even allow himself to acknowledge what he real issue was, who the genuine target of his anger and hate was, he was then instead able to put the blame on the acts of cruelty and violence towards his inferiors for not being satisfying enough.

It was the same irrationality he failed to conquer when he first discovered the habit of self-injury. He had found himself involuntarily hurting himself in response to his claustrophobic attacks, which had begun around the same period he entered puberty. The uncontrollable nature of these attacks he inflicted on himself unsettled him – already powerless in the face of his attacks, he hated the symptoms and his body's instinctive animal reaction in attempting to cope with them. He retrained himself to consciously cause pain and injury to his body rather than allowing himself to bang his head against the wall whilst overwhelmed by panic. Only on a few occasions had he lost control of himself whilst making incisions into his skin or burning it. His father, of course, had discovered this habit of his – there was little, if anything, Garak had been able to keep hidden from him. At least he had managed to convincingly cover the reason behind these mutilations – his excuse was that he was training himself to become intolerant to pain. Tain had smiled, mentioning only that the Obsidian Order already had equipment and measures in place to deal with pain and mitigating the chances that its operatives could be manipulated under the pressure of something so pedestrian as physical discomfort.

It had been some years now since he had last indulged in this practice. The scars remained. Sometimes they were to Garak the most succinct and accurate representation of himself, other days he felt so distant from them, these reminders of his tumultuous youth, evidence of an emotionalism he did not wish to admit to. They were visible still, patches of scar tissue in discreet places – his thighs were lined with these deep silvery lines, old and faded to a pale ghostliness, an abstract cobweb adhering to his limbs. Julian could not have missed them on their first occasion of being intimate, yet he had not said anything, which Garak had been grateful for. Every so often, when he was dressing or preparing for a shower, he would consider whether he should avail of the wonders of medical technology and have this white tracery erased from his skin – every time he dismissed it, unable to explain even to himself why he could not have them removed.

Jules' violent and destructive impulses were not like his own though, being precisely that – impulsive. Garak had employed a logic and method, controlling when and how he hurt himself. Jules was not in control of his aggressive actions in the same way; although Garak certainly understood this need to break inanimate objects, and even to an extent, he could understand his compulsion to lash out at those around him. He was a child, and something had frightened him terribly, deeply, and this was his reaction. Garak attempted to imagine what would have happened, if as a child, he had ever dared to act towards his father in the same violent manner as Jules. It did not even bear consideration – though perhaps it would have been satisfying for a brief moment.

\---

By the time evening came, Jules would be exhausted, as was Garak. His fear and aggression spent, he clung to Garak, and he welcomed this need for physical closeness, and he sought to reassure his little one, it did not matter what had taken place during the day, it was forgiven, it was forgotten, and he kept his arms around him, Kukalaka pressed between them. He wondered to himself if this was the first time Jules, and Julian, had allowed himself to experience and express the anger he must feel towards his parents.

That night, the nightmares returned, as bad the the evening previous, and they came the night after that, and after that, nightmares that left Jules clinging to Garak's chest, holding on to him and to Kukalaka so desperately, that it was as if he feared being physically pulled back into the world of his bad dreams. The nights were broken by these terrors and Garak began to struggle to hold on to the count of what day it was, as the twenty-six hours were no longer punctuated by the rhythm of night and day, rest and activity, but instead they went between them, a bit here, a bit there, moving in an odd twilight existence. The morning of their second last day, Garak awoke early, unexpectedly. He lay there for a moment wondering why he was so confused by this. He realised that they had both slept the night through, undisturbed by Jules' nightmares. He had woken up early naturally due to having had a full night's rest. He turned to check on Jules – he was still asleep, his long legs splayed out, resting on his front, Kukalaka held loosely in his grip. Out of habit, Garak checked whether Jules was wet and was further confused to find him dry. He had not made it through the night without an accident since they had arrived here. Garak sat up carefully, rearranging the pillows and leaning back against them. He considered Jules – he experienced a queer twinge, a sense that he had not been given a chance to say goodbye to his little boy. Soon after, Jules stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Initially he wriggled deeper back into the pillow but then moving his head from left to right, as if shaking off his residual slumber, he groaned, pushing himself up on his hands and then sat up, Kukalaka still held to his torso. Even half-filled with sleep still, his hazel eyes were lively and warm. He brushed his free hand over his hair, and then rubbed at his own face; Garak noted that the scratches were nearly faded.

“Elim?” His voice was hoarse, a mixture between over-use and strain from crying, and under-use for forming words. Garak went through a kaleidoscope of reactions upon hearing his partner speak his name – there was relief and gladness, there was also a pang, a loss, a vague apprehension; mostly, he was just happy to see the disconnection and listlessness gone from him. 

“Julian.” He said, not quite a question, yet uncertain enough that his partner caught this note.

“Yes, Elim.” He cleared his throat. “Julian.” He smiled faintly, and reached his hand out to Garak, who met it, palm to palm. “I -” He began uncertainly. “I just need to, uhm, freshen up, I will be back in a moment.”

Garak nodded and watched as Julian rose form the bed and made his way to the bathroom. He strained to listen to his movements, his Cardassian hearing unable to pick up the muffled noises. Julian did not need him to care for him now, he could attend to himself. He felt somehow obsolete. Tain's voice hissed in his mind, _you are obsolete, Elim, he doesn't need you to care for him anymore._ He sought to keep his mind blank after that, but the thought burrowed into his heart and remained there. Julian reappeared, a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair slicked back and wet. He rummaged briefly for some clothes, and tugged them on. Now towelling his hair dry, he regarded Garak.

“Would – would you like to shower and I can arrange breakfast for us?”

Garak inclined his head, and moved toward the bathroom. He met his reflection in the mirror, and could not read what he found there – at least that was left to him. How could everything have changed so fundamentally in mere days, how had he not noticed? Prior to this holiday, he, they even, had been under the impression that the most difficult aspect of this undertaking would be for Julian to enter little space and for them to explore this together, and instead it was the return which presented the greatest challenge. Oh, it had been so easy to care for Jules, for his little boy, once he understood what he wanted or needed, or what was distressing him, he was able to provide for him, keep him safe and content by his mere presence. But now – now was when he could fail. _Could? What if you already have?_ Tain drawled.

Garak stepped under the water, as hot as it could possibly go and still not enough to burn his flesh, to shock him, to blank out the softly burrowing, insistent thoughts which established their roots deeper with each moment. Julian had not realised it yet, or had he? Was that why he said so little, why he was so brisk and practical, because he knew, and was already preparing to act, to leave? Garak bent his head under the stream of water, closing his eyes, wishing he was in the desert on Cardassia, alone in the dry heat, the sand whipping around, nothing to see for miles.

The dynamic was utterly changed in their relationship now. Julian had faced the deepest, darkest part of himself, explored and processed his childhood and his nightmares, his dead self, his other self, and now, was returning, having confronted things few could ever honestly brave in themselves. He was powerful, whole, Jules united with Julian, content, in balance and harmony, reconciled. He was far more powerful now than Garak because he would never be able to attempt such an undertaking, let alone come out of the other side of it. His memories, his childhood, his many selves and lives and lies he had created and inhabited throughout the decades could never be accessed in such a manner, he was the opposite of Lot - it was by refusing to turn his head to look back which damned him to lose the one he loved. He had always known somehow that his upbringing, Tain's moulding of him would be the reason he would lose his love, he just had not envisioned it happening in this manner, this twist. You were always a touch short-sighted in these matters, Tain reminded him.

Garak dried himself, and dressed, taking his time, wanting to present his blandest face possible in this moment. He stopped at the door, taking a few deep, steadying breaths, realising how small his world was now, not the literal enclosed space of the cupboard from his childhood, but rather how paradoxically small his own world was rendered by the multitude of lies and lives tangled hopelessly inside him and that he could never confront. His world was a pinprick, directly in front of him, whereas Julian's word was now as big as he wanted it to be. Why would he remain with someone so limited, so shackled when he possessed such freedom? Odd expression, he found himself considering, to possess freedom. For once, this sense of claustrophobia provoked no attack in him, as he accepted that this narrow strip was his fate. Oh, how cruel fate could be; previously he had believed himself to be suffering when he was subjected only to the outward experience of exile, from Cardassia, the external sense of having lost status and power – now he knew how much worse this fate was, how much worse this inner exile was, to be barred from accessing all these parts of himself. This was the true exile. And Julian had just outgrown him. He squared his shoulders, corrected his posture, and with his face schooled into a mild expression, he proceeded towards the courtyard where Julian had arranged the breakfast things.

Julian sat up on seeing Garak, and began to pour the tea, red leaf, the aroma drifting towards him. He saw a plate of scones and various condiments. He had absolutely no appetite but sat down beside Julian, and sipped at his tea. Julian held his cup in his hands, apparently considering it fiercely before replacing it in its saucer.

“Elim.” Garak readied himself for the blow; no matter how much one expected a blow, it was still sickening to wait for it, even when it was going to fall upon a bruise.

“I wanted my first words to you to be more elegant than they are going to be. I was worried that if I focused too much on trying to say something perfectly formulated and eloquent, like you would be able to, I would risk over-thinking it all, and would not be able to say anything, which would have left you wondering what was happening and would have been unfair.” He took a breath, having stumbled to the end of that long, unwieldy sentence. He swallowed a mouthful of tea.

“Oh Elim, I don't know how to put into words everything I've experienced or felt and thought these past days, I don't even know for certain how many days it was. I don't even know if it's possible for me to say with words what I didn't perceive using words.” He stopped himself. Garak wanted to smile at how Julian could still get lost in his own sentences. “But since I don't know where to start, because how does one even begin to have this conversation -”

The first sting hit Garak. He knew he could hold out against many more. He could.

“But firstly, Elim.” Julian turned to face him directly, and leaning forward, clasped his hands in his own. Garak observed the contrast of their hands, and the somehow pleasing asymmetry of them. “I love you, so very much.”

Garak, remaining outwardly unchanged, was confused by this. He blinked at Julian, waiting for him to go on. Perhaps he believed he was being kind, that he was compelled to take pity on him. Julian had a whole life of possibilities ahead of him, and Garak had very little, he was to be left behind.

“You – you took all this on, took care of me, of – Jules, on your own. It cannot have been easy for you, and you just -”. Julian shook his head, emotion thickening his voice. “You gave me this. You didn't recoil from it, from me. You cared for me. You loved me more than my family ever did and ever could. Do you know what you have given me?” Julian was gazing into his face now, with his earnestly shining dark eyes. “You allowed me to rewrite over my childhood. You let me re-inscribe that horrible time with new memories, with good, loving memories, with feelings of warmth and happiness, and security, memories with you. You let me have some sense of what my childhood could have been like if I had just been allowed to be Jules.”

It was easier to not give an external reaction to these words – how could he give an adequate response to such sentiments? There was nothing that would not sound trite or meaningless as an answer. To know that he had managed to assist in granting his love something this powerful – that could be some comfort to him, always.

Julian leaned forward further and pressed his lips to Garak's. Garak was unprepared for this but welcomed it, he had missed the feeling of Julian's mouth, and he kissed him back, open-mouthed, his mind heady with the sensation of liquid warmth, his senses flooded by Julian's scent and taste. This was still here, and Julian felt it too. They broke apart; Julian remained bent forward, his skin slightly flushed now. He reached out a hand to trace over Garak's eye ridges, and Garak knew he would no longer be able to receive this touch without thinking of Jules' wondrous expression as he explored his ridges and scales.

Now. This was the moment. Why did everything around them have to be so beautiful for what was going to happen, why did Julian have to be so very beautiful when he was about to end this?

“I need to know how you were during the past, what, ten, eleven days? Was it – were you alright?”

“I don't follow.”

“I was deep in my little space, I could only understand your emotions to a certain degree. I felt that you were content to care for me, but I couldn't sense much further than that, and I needed to be certain that you were alright all this time, that you were alright in this role.”

Garak was silent for a while, and Julian, looking worried, broke the quiet. “Oh hell, Elim, I'm sorry, was it terrible? Were you uncomfortable? I'm so sorry I forced you into this, into playing along with me. We never have to do this again, you don't need to worry, I wouldn't put you through it again, I can't believe I've been so selfish -”.

“Dearest, you are the most infuriating being I have ever encountered. I always thought I would be easily able to predict your reactions and motivations, and every single time, I am proven wrong. If there is one thing I like less than being mistaken, it is being surprised, and you never fail to surprise me.” He barked out a short laugh. “You want to apologise to me? Oh Julian, whatever for? If you had simply waited a moment longer to allow me to gather my thoughts to answer you, I would have been able to clarify that I was once more wrong-footed at another incidence of your unfathomable human compassion. Julian, if I had answered negatively, if I had said, yes, I hated every moment of the past twelve, not eleven or ten, days, would you have accepted that, would you have accepted that you would never again, with me, be able to be little, to be Jules?”

He furthermore wanted to add how blindsided he was by this question, when he had instead been expecting the beginnings of Julian's justifications and explanations for leaving him. It did not seem to him that Julian was considering ending their relationship. He had been worried about him instead. And though Tain could manipulate him in nearly every other way, Julian's words would always hold more power than his, although he would sometimes forget this in his moments of weakness, the moments Tain waited for and preyed on.

“Well, yes.” Julian responded.

“You would do that to yourself?” Garak asked in disbelief, not doubting Julian's sincerity, but unable to grasp that he would be prepared to do this for him. “You would deny yourself something you have wanted for so long, and something you have just allowed yourself to experience, and you would let it go again, even though it is clearly important to you and helped you, made you content?”

“Yes.” Julian replied more decisively this time.

“What a pair we are.”

A wide smile broke out on Julian's features, creating deep lines at his eyes which Garak loved, and he reached out to touch them with his fingertips.

“I was very happy to care for you, and am honoured that you can share Jules with me. Jules is an enchanting child. I will always be there to care for my little boy whenever he wants. I must admit, I even miss performing that role.”

How had he been so blind? Garak admonished himself in wonder. Yes, Julian was capable of confronting parts of himself Garak would never be able to – but he wanted to be little with him. He had allowed Tain's voice to make him insensitive to this fact. He didn't want to be Jules around random others, he wanted him. Though he did not feel powerful or as if he held power in the manner he did in his previous lives, he experienced a deep sense of certainty now, which was a power in itself. Julian did not feel forced to remain with him out of fear of exposure, he wanted to, badly, and rather, he was insecure about whether it would be taken from him again. Oh, love seemed such a fragile thing, and yet, in reality, it was so very strong.


	10. Chapter 10

Julian continued to look worried; he had not yet unburdened himself of all his concerns, Garak assessed and so he waited for Julian to begin talking again, knowing he would not be able to remain silent for too long.

“But, oh, Elim, in the final few days, I took advantage of that, of your willingness, or more than willingness.” He emended at a glance from his partner. He looked miserable – what did he believe himself guilty of?

“The day of the weather system outage. It brought me out of my little space. I wasn't Jules for a few minutes. The sounds were so loud and frightening, I felt as if the war had come to Risa, as if that bomb and chaos and destruction was going to invade. The noise of it must have shocked me out of my little space because it reminded me so strongly of my professional duty, and my duty as a doctor. So, we know now that in an emergency I can be pulled out of being little.” He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “I also had this terrible painful pressure in my head during the storm, and I didn't understand that either. Everything was too big, which makes no sense because it wasn't as if I had actually physically become a child once again, I have been the same size the entire time here. But it was how I felt, it was too big, and yet although it was too big and I was too big, everything simultaneously seemed small, small and helpless. I was looking back into returning to the vastness of space and its darkness, or being part of a war where our odds remain tiny at best. I couldn't stand it, I was terrified, and I was selfish, I was so selfish – but I knew that it was the weather system outage and not the war, so I allowed myself slide back to being Jules. And not just that.” He rubbed his mouth again. “I did it intentionally, and I didn't tell you about it, about coming out of it for a moment, and my decision to retreat again. And I didn't tell you because, oh God, Elim – I was scared and I wanted to forget everything I'd just been reminded of. Wanted to be little again and have you with me. I already felt wrong somehow for wanting it. It led to this perverse wish to – test you.” He managed to say, looking utterly miserable. “You said just now that you liked Jules, you like me as Jules.”

“I said more than that, I said you are an enchanting child.” This only seemed to make Julian appear even more miserable. 

“But what if you only wanted to care for me when I was like that, when I was docile and entertaining, easy? What would happen if I was a horrible child, if I wasn't fun and sweet?” 

Garak gazed at him, slowly comprehending.

“It wasn't even regression, it was a retreat. I just – left. I was inside myself so deeply and I wanted to stay there as long as possible, and to see how long you would put up with me in my new state.” 

“You wanted to push me to see if I would also care for you when it wasn't easy to?”

Julian made no response, confirming what Garak had said. He considered his partner for a moment. This is what Julian thought of as being emotionally manipulative. Well. Perhaps it was – for him. Garak rather admired his little boy (or was it Julian?) for what he had done. He would have performed a respective test of his trust in someone during his previous lives – you could not allow yourself to be uncertain and unsure of anything when in the Obsidian Order. You could not leave your assumptions and beliefs untested. However, Julian would not want to hear such an answer just now. Garak decided that he needed to speak to the part of Julian still close to Jules – for he could not believe that Julian had just come out of this intense experience only less than a couple or hours ago and was already a complete adult again (indeed, maybe he never would be, now that Jules had been acknowledged and welcomed). 

“Julian, do you remember that Terran children's book you said was a favourite of yours, 'The Secret Garden'?” 

He nodded, confused as to where Garak was going with this. “I do because I remember how much you liked it.”

“I wouldn't go as far to say that, however it does have some laudable aspects, mostly its elegant language.”

“You really liked it.”

“Julian, this is not the point I am trying to bring up here. We can debate whatever worth Terran literature may have at another time. In that book, there were two children, Mary, and her cousin, Colin. They were both apparently unlikeable at the beginning of the story – they behaved badly, they even behaved hatefully. But they were lonely, they were frightened, and they were the product of the childhood they had had up until that period, formed by how the adults in their lives had treated them. They believed themselves to be hateful because they felt they must be, as their parents had neglected them, abandoned them. They believed themselves unlovable because they had not experienced love from their families. They wanted to reject a world they so much wished to be a part of. They wanted to be proven wrong, that they weren't hateful, by testing those around them with difficult behaviour. That is the natural reaction of a child. They are scared and small, and wish to have their fears allayed. Once Mary and Colin understood they were in fact loved by their families, they become happier, and move lovable. Children always want to test boundaries, to know how far something can go. If they have never experienced unconditional love, which one usually experiences first within the family, then it is very understandable that they feel compelled to test the strength of the love others profess to have for them. You seem more disturbed at the idea of having subjected me to some kind of test than I am. All I am concerned about is whether I passed it.”

Julian's face changed, taking on a melancholic aspect as he nodded his affirmation. 

“So, now you know, my dear.”

Disgust at the Bashirs burned in him once more. The worst part was that they had no concept of what they had inflicted on their son. Julian had been the opposite to him when they first met, in so many ways. He had not been certain about who he was or what he wanted to be, and how else could he be when his own family had not given the necessary blocks to build upon? If he remembered and felt the conditional nature of his parents' love for him, their rejection of him (for what else was it to send your small child to be changed utterly other than rejection?), their disappointment in him, then how could he begin to believe his connections with others were solid? Academically, Garak understood he too had been formed by Tain, and in a manner, though dissimilar in method, had not been dissimilar in intention. However, he and Julian had reacted in different ways – Julian had rejected his parents entirely, whereas Garak had to admit that it was Tain's voice which still followed him now, and could still influence him, and he remembered looking for praise and confirmation from his father and wanting it, even as an adult. Julian had not sought external confirmation from his family, but instead sought it in his peers, his lovers, his friends. 

Indeed, he had to acknowledge if anyone could be called manipulative, emotionally manipulative, at the beginning of his friendship with Julian, it had been Garak. He had been very aware of how Julian was being seduced by him and he had played upon that, easily. He had welcomed his attention and had even almost doubted himself and wondered if Julian was actually playing a role and double-crossing him somehow. Of course, things took a somewhat unexpected turn along the way and Garak had ceased using Julian the way he had intended – yet the fact remained that he had been able to use him, could have continued manipulating him if he had wished, and this was in large part due to the legacy of his parents' failure, (though he had not known this at the time) their selfishness, their own petty limited human behaviour. That was the difference between the Bashirs and Tain – Tain had been aware of what he was doing to Elim and did not care. His son needed to be moulded a certain way and this would be achieved no matter what. The Bashirs did not know what they were doing to their son, which was worse, Garak believed. Julian struggled to even be angry with them, capitulating at the first sign of their self-pity and justifications. Garak knew he would hate Tain, always, yet his need to please him, to be recognised by him had never gone away and these two conflicting drives interacted strangely with one another.

He looked at Julian, who also appeared deep in thought.  
“I believe we will have a lot to discuss but perhaps it would be wise to take a break for a moment. Could I invite you for a stroll on one of the beaches here?”

Julian squeezed his hand. “I would like that very much.”

After clearing the breakfast things away, they set out for the beach.

“It seems odd not to have Kukalaka with us.” Garak commented. “Almost incomplete.”

“Kukalaka has had a lot of my company recently. I think he might like some time to himself. I also don't feel the need for him right now. I know he's there. That's the main thing.”

Garak noted the contrast, how they were able to discuss Kukalaka with ease. 

“I wondered,” Julian asked. “if you would allow me to take your arm?” 

He held out his arm to Julian and he looped his arm through his, hand gripping him – he did not need Kukalaka at the moment, however he required some form of support still, Garak thought. They made their way across the warm sand, the late morning sun creating dazzling patterns on the sea as it made gentle waves. If only it could always be like this, Garak thought. He had an indulgent vision of the two of them, years from now, walking, arm in arm, the location did not matter. 

“You're going to miss the heat, aren't you?”

“Do you even really need to ask that?”

“You look better, healthier.”

“So do you, Doctor.” 

“Well, for different reasons, I suppose. It is so clear how your natural environment is much warmer than what DS9 can provide you with, and Risa isn't even as hot as Cardassia. But already I can see how it suits you. There's a warmer tint to your skin and scales now. I suppose that rules out ever settling down on Earth.”

Garak was taken aback by this direct reference to the future, and a future featuring them both, together; nonetheless, he masked it. 

“Would you be greatly disappointed?” 

Julian snorted. “Christ, no. The further away from Earth the better. Too near my parents. If this holiday has shown me anything, it has made me understand more about what they did to me, and it has cemented my desire to keep them at a distance, to ensure they can never be involved in my life, or influence it.”

Julian indicated that he wished to sit down, and they settled themselves, Garak welcoming the soft heat of the sand. They sat for a few moments, listening to the sound of the ocean. 

“Elim, I already asked this but we didn't really get to the answer. What were these past days like for you? Were they a struggle? What was it like to be with Jules?”

Garak met Julian's open but somewhat apprehensive gaze. He could talk about it a little bit, he reasoned. After all, if this was going to become a permanent and somewhat regular part of their life together, Julian should indeed know how he had navigated this time, he should enquire as to what he had done that had been acceptable to Jules and what had not, and to adjust his actions accordingly. Perhaps he would even be able to share some of the memories awoken in him by his time with Jules. He had wanted to tell Julian about this; and now that it was so close, so real, he found he recoiled from the opportunity given to him. So he decided to focus on Jules instead. 

“Well, I had to get to know Jules, for though in many ways like you, and a part of you, he is also quite distinct from you, and I did not wish to make the mistake of proceeding as if you were one and the same.”

Julian sat cross-legged before him, his fingers on his ankles, leaning forward, listening. 

“Some things were trial and error – others were educated guesses. I relied on what we had discussed previously, and then reacted to your reactions. I was initially somewhat at a loss as to how to know what to do in the absence of direct verbal communication, but that stopped being an issue.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” 

“Garak, you are not necessarily known for always saying what you mean.”

“My dear, I always mean what I say; whether it is a lie or not is another story entirely.”

Julian tilted his head, his eyes softening in that expression of fond indulgence and exasperation that Garak knew so well. 

“Do not flatter yourself too much, Julian; you are not an unbreakable code and words are most certainly not the only manner of communication and anyone who limits themselves to that one method will find very limited use in the world of espionage. Your face is easy to read, I am sorry to tell you, as is the expression in your eyes, your body language is also quite clear. Furthermore, there was a lot in your charming chatter that assisted me in translating what you were communicating.” His tone had been light, and meant to be taken as such. Instead Julian appeared almost on the verge of tears. “Speaking of difficulties in communication -” He placed his hands on Julian's. “- there appears to have been a breakdown here. I had only meant my words to be taken lightly.”

Julian shook his head, swallowing to clear his throat and stave off the tears threatening to fall from his shining eyes. “No, it's just, you read me too easily, you say, and yet my parents couldn't, or wouldn't. These were the real misunderstandings, as if we were yelling at one another from two mountain tops, and no way to cross the abyss between us. I tried so hard to understand them and what they wanted, and they couldn't accept that I did not know how to meet them there, and they refused to adapt what they were doing. And this was the constant of my childhood, pre-augment, a lot of noise which I could only partially and slowly understand but not copy or produce, a sense that all these sounds had nothing in them, they weren't meant for me, and if I couldn't master them, I had no other way of accessing the world where my parents were. And you -” The tears spilled down his cheeks now. “- you, the Cardassian spy, take all of a few days to work out how to understand me, something my own parents refused to do.” He rubbed at his face with the backs of his hands.

“Tailor.” 

Julian hiccupped a laugh. “A tailor, of course, Elim, I apologise.” 

Garak took one of his hands and pressed his palm to his lover's, not knowing how else to respond to what Julian had shared with him. 

“I do admit though, there were times when I did wish dearly to speak with you, but I knew that those kind of exchange would not be possible. And yet, now that I am sitting here before you, undisturbed in this lovely setting, I find myself unable to begin such a conversation.”

“Garak, are you trying to tell me that you have reached the stage where you would at the least like to share private memories with me?” 

“I don't know if I would formulate it so strongly, but in essence, yes.” 

It seemed so little in comparison to what Julian gave him but it was the most he could offer at this point and time. 

“I did not intend for what I said to be taken sarcastically. I meant it. I have long been aware, Garak, that there may always be great parts of your past you will not be able to tell me about, and that is fine, really. It took me so many years to get to this point, of being this honest with myself about my needs. Just because I am at that place now doesn't mean you have to be in a similar position. I think the only time I would want you to disclose something to me immediately is if something was hurting you.”

“Like with the implant?”

“Yes, exactly. Other than that, there is no need or pressure to make any admissions. But to hear that you now sometimes experience a wish to share these things with me – that is enough. I can understand very well that there is a feeling of power in silence.”

Julian rose to his feet and held out his hand to assist Garak. “Shall we return to the house? Could we pass by the flowers on the way back? I had got used to visiting them every day.”

They set off once again, and Julian took Garak's arm once more, leaning into his side. They halted in front of the wildflowers, watching them as they swayed in the lightest of breezes, Garak's eye assessing the picture their myriad colours formed. 

“Sometimes,” Julian began, remaining at his side, holding onto his arm, “I felt that you were very far away – I wasn't able to understand or name what it was I saw in your face but all I remember is sensing a darkness around you, which was unsettling to me. I am sorry that in those dark moments, I couldn't offer you anything, I could only understand what was happening as Jules.” 

“There is nothing to apologise for.”

“Were they memories, Elim?”

He nodded.

“From your childhood?”

He nodded again. “I had not quite been prepared for how being in Jules' company would cause me to dwell on my formative years. Certain moments seemed to evoke incidents from my childhood which possessed some parallels to your own, or at least had some points of identification.”

Garak moved forward and picked a few flowers, his trained eye and practiced hand evident. They returned to their holiday home, Julian preparing tea, Garak arranging the few blooms elegantly in a vase. It made a pretty picture, the tea things, the flowers, the early afternoon sun light, the background of their courtyard.  
As he took his seat and observed Julian pouring the tea for them, a thought entered his mind and he found it difficult to dislodge.

“Julian, my dear, do you now feel angry with, or at, your parents?” 

He appeared to consider the question for a moment, his dark eyes full of pain, full of sadness – he almost regretted having asked, but he needed to pursue this. 

“Yes. I wish I didn't. When I realise how angry I am at them,” he said in a low voice, husky at the edges, “it seems so wrong. I know it isn't wrong to be angry at them for what they did and how they failed. Still, I do wish it didn't have to be so. It has taken me a long time to be able to say, yes, I am right for being angry with them. Yet, what good is that sense of righteousness now, what good is all that poison in me? It can be exhausting living on pure spite.”

“Yes, it can.” confirmed Garak. 

“Still, I don't want to forget my anger – it is what assures me that I'm not making it up, that I was hurt by them, my anger makes me stronger in the face of their self-pity and justifications. If I don't keep that anger, at least a little bit of it, it seems to me they'd be allowed to forget that I know what they did was wrong. Or rather, in their eyes, that I believe what they did was wrong, even though they don't.”

“I will gladly carry that anger for you.”

Julian reached out his hand to him and their fingers intertwined for a moment. “Oh, I know, Elim, I already feel that you are angry at them. It does help to see someone else who reads their actions as wrong.” His brow contracted. “Anger is a funny thing though. It collapses time for me, when I get angry at them, I can't tell what the present is, I don't have a sense of the past as the past or any future, it's just a place without time, a sensation, a drive. It dislocates me. That aspect is disorienting and the main motivation I have for not indulging in my anger. It takes me away from now and afterwards, I have to find my way back to it.”

“Odd, isn't it, that we say 'find our way back', when in this case you refer to a now, which is a here, not a somewhere back, behind.” Garak mused. 

“Are we talking about my rages as Jules now?” 

“That had not been my direct intention, no.”

Julian sighed, his mouth drooping. “I can still feel the echoes of those rages. I am sorry, Elim, that I subjected you to that.”

“There is nothing to apologise for. You were a child.”

“I know. I know and yet. Those fits and rages never even made much impact on my parents. My father would just leave, he would tell my mother she had to deal with it and he would leave, so he didn't have to witness it. I couldn't even make him listen to my anger.”

“I imagine, because anger, even without words, is very hard to misinterpret or ignore. If he had remained, he would have had no further excuses to hide behind.” He paused and framing it more as a statement he expected Julian to confirm rather than a question, said: “You don't forgive them, do you?”

“No.”


	11. Chapter 11

“No, I can't imagine you would.” Garak responded. “And neither should you. They do not deserve it.”

“Garak?” Julian had moved his chair nearer to him, placing his hand against his cheek, turning his face to his. “Why are you asking about forgiveness, Garak?” 

He made no response, his chest heavy and constricted. 

“I have known for a long time now how important forgiveness is to you. I remember when Tain told you he did not forgive you. I understood how devastating that was for you; why do you want to know about forgiveness and my parents? Why do you need to know if I forgive them?” 

Garak could not say anything. For once his words had abandoned him, his facility at lying, at covering, deflecting. All there was were Julian's eyes on him and his fingers on his face. 

“Garak, you can't, you don't believe – you can't be concerned that if I don't forgive my parents then you should not be forgiven. Is that what it is?” 

His throat was dry and he could not attempt to bring forth even the faintest hiss. 

“But those are two very different issues.”

“How?” He whispered. “My life is full of unforgiveable acts I have committed.” His voice faded momentarily before he won command of himself once more. “Your parents are guilty of one terrible act and you cannot forgive them, and neither should you. However, my fault must be all the more grievous, more unforgiveable.”

Julian looked astonished, insulted even. “How can someone as perceptive as you are believe that? First of all, my God, Garak, it wasn't one act my parents were guilty of. In the eyes of the law, yes, it was one act, of sending me away to be genetically enhanced. But for me, it was every day, it was their continued rejection of their child and refusal to even attempt to understand him. So, let us dismiss your qualitative argument straight off.” He was becoming angry, Garak could tell, his body thrummed with nervous energy, his expression had become hard and focused; he had removed his fingers from Garak's face and they moved restlessly, as he twisted them together, or rubbed his palms against each other. “Forgiveness was a major tenant of all the big Terran religions. In Islam, for example, a convert to the religion was forgiven all the sins they had committed in their life prior to joining the faith. Catholics had their concept of penance, bizarre as it was. But what was common to all in relation to forgiveness was not simply that you were forgiven your guilt. It wasn't unconditional. Rather, yes, the religion forgave you everything you had done, but the important condition was not only did you need to sincerely mean it, you furthermore had to demonstrate that you intended to go forth and sin no more, that you intended to reform and live differently from now on. Yes, you could make mistakes and sin and would be forgiven those too, but you needed to show you understood why what you did was wrong, and ask forgiveness, and that you would want to no longer be guilty of such acts. Now I have very little time for religion, ancient or otherwise, but there is something in that teaching, I will grant you, and I would be a fool to reject any wisdom they have purely on the grounds that it was once attributed to made-up gods.” Julian now held Garak's hands between his own and was rubbing over the backs of them, their palms facing upwards and he touched his thumbs to the inside of his wrists. “My parents have not earned forgiveness. They do not recognise, or at least will not admit, that what they did was wrong, no matter what positive effects it has had on my life. They have no intention of ever changing. They will never attempt to ask forgiveness from me. I would give it to them. However, my dear Garak, you are not like that. I don't know all that you did in the name of the Obsidian Order, all that you did in the name of Cardassia, all that you did for your father. I don't believe I necessarily need to know. You know what those deeds were, and I doubt you will forget them, and I doubt that you don't understand why they were wrong, but also why you did them, or had to do them.” A small smile touched his lips and his brown eyes took on that soft quality with which Julian often regarded him and it never failed to touch something inside Garak. Being on the receiving end of that fond gaze had helped him more than he could ever explain to his partner. “You asked me to forgive you before, although I personally had nothing to forgive you for. You knew. You knew what my parents won't ever admit to. This isn't to say that those who were on the receiving end owe you forgiveness. They don't. But you are further ahead than many others will ever be. You have changed.” 

Garak managed to rally himself, unable to just accept Julian's sincerely meant words as that would be too much. “I imagine you are going to tell me next that I need to learn to forgive myself.”

“Absolutely not.” Julian said. “Just that you might be better than you believe you are. It's just not the easiest thing for anyone to admit that both good and bad exist within one person.”

They both fell silent. Garak could not remain sitting any longer, his legs were tense with nervous energy, and even sitting in the courtyard felt too close and narrow. Whilst Garak took a turn around the courtyard, Julian cleared away the tea things and returned, taking up station beside him, rocking back and forth slightly on his feet. 

“You've been thinking about Tain a lot during this time.”

Garak stared resolutely ahead, as if he wished to memorise the sea view; in some ways, he did. 

“Being with me as Jules has made you think about him, about your childhood. We didn't exactly have average childhoods, you and I, did we?” Julian said more than asked. 

“Doctor, I rather think it is the opposite, I think anyone who had a happy childhood is in the minority.” 

“Ah, now I see where I've been going wrong with the selections of Terran literature I give to you, I should have been giving you the Russian greats all this time.” 

“I believe there is a joke in there which I do not understand the reference to, so it fails.”

Julian squeezed his upper arm. “Still, I suppose we got through.” He continued in an uncertain tone. “Survival is always the priority. It does funny things to a person though, survival.” 

“At least it will stop with us.” Garak said, his tone dry, bitter. He felt Julian jerking his head beside him.

“How do you mean it will stop with us?” 

“Exactly that, all of these memories and learned survival strategies, all the anger, it will die with us, we won't inflict it on anyone further.” A darkness had settled over him as he spoke these words, contributing to the heavy sensation in his chest and pressing at his temples.

Julian gazed at him, his eyes wide with shock and he gripped Garak's arms hard enough to cause him some discomfort. 

“Doctor, what is the meaning of -”

“Elim. Elim, why did you never tell me?”

“Tell you what.” He bit out in return, trying his damndest not to wrench himself out of Julian's hold even though it was only making him feel more hemmed in on all sides. There was never any escape from this claustrophobia, it was an external force, an internal force, there was no relief.

“Why did you never tell me that you want to have children?” 

Garak could no longer see Julian, his vision having become impossibly blurred and his blood pounded in his ears. His chest was further constricted and he swallowed desperately, attempting to clear his mind and his vision, but to no avail, he was powerless against the tears which slid from his eyes and tracked down his face. Oh, damn it all, Julian had never seen him in such a state before. He may have witnessed him crying at a particularly moving piece of music or literature, however this was altogether different and undignified. Julian wrapped his arms around him and pressed his head against his; Garak allowed him to but could not respond, could not bring himself to raise his arms and return the embrace. Though he could give Julian such comfort, he struggled to ever accept it for himself. He was so very tired though, and that was the only excuse he could find for the embarrassment of being unable to stifle the sobs that rose in his throat and which caused Julian to tighten his embrace further. They remained like this for some time, Julian tenaciously holding onto him, Garak limp against him, and continuing to fail to repress his weeping. Now his eyes ached, they were swollen, and giving a final shuddering sigh, he began to break away from Julian, who, stubborn, stubborn pest, did not release him entirely but kept him close, his hands resting lightly against his elbows. 

“Elim, why did you not tell me about this? All this time you've wanted children and you never told me.” His eyes shimmered, full of empathetic emotion.

Garak said nothing for the moment, reaching for his handkerchief and drying his face. “Julian, sometimes we can want things we will never have. I already count myself lucky enough to have won you.”

“That doesn't answer my question though. You are allowed to have and to want to have more than one good thing in your life.”

“Just because I want to be a father doesn't mean I should be one. Aren't both our families evidence enough of that?” 

Julian blinked at him, a look of shock on his face. “You think you would be a bad father. You think you would be like Tain.”

“It is what I learned and believe me, a lifetime of training and socialisation is very difficult to shake off.”

“But if you were like Tain, as a father, that surely would've emerged over this time. It cannot have been easy dealing with me as Jules, and you cared for me beautifully. How would Tain have dealt with a child like Jules?”

Garak did not want to answer that last part, as it was too terrible to contemplate; however, he did not want to accept the logic of the first part of his statement. 

“You were so patient with me, and so attentive. You met me on my level, on my child-level. You took to the role, Elim, you know you did, I think you feel the loss of it now that I am not in my little space. You can't deny that you were happy. You made Jules happy too.” His voice was soft, a caress, but had an unshakeable conviction to it. Garak gave up resisting him and sat down heavily on the nearest sofa, Julian following him, his earnest face turned towards him, waiting for his confirmation. 

“I did. I found great contentment in caring for Jules. I have long wanted a family; however, it was never really an option.” Life in the Obsidian Order was not exactly conducive to family life – and then of course had come his fall, his exile, and he had resigned himself years ago to having lost any opportunity to have a family. He had also convinced himself it would have been selfish and dangerous for him to have a family – how could he be certain of their safety, from others or from himself? 

“Is that the only thing holding you back?”

Garak hesitated. Julian continued looking at him, a silent prompt. 

“No, it isn't the only reason, but I am concerned about voicing it.”

“Elim, try me.”

Garak sighed. “I never mentioned this to you, because I was aware you yourself do not want children but it worries me that you would feel this reason as a reproach, which it is not. However, as I know you do not want children, I thought it better to not mention it. I can manage.”

Julian smiled at him. “Oh, I know how much you hate being wrong, and it gives me a certain satisfaction, I can't lie. You should have talked to me about it – you never considered that people can change?” 

Garak looked at Julian, confused.

“Do you remember what you first said to me when were discussing my need to be little? You said that if I denied myself something I wanted in order to prove I wasn't influenced by my parents, I was just reconfirming that I had been affected by them, that my anger and hurt was influencing my choices, and that I needed to learn to choose instead what would make me happier. Yes, I have said before, and not directly to you, mind you as well, that I didn't want a family. However, I can understand now – that was to spite my parents, to a large degree.” Julian's hands were active again, twisting, fluttering, moving repeatedly. “What do you think would hurt my parents most, Elim? Not their son being a failure, or rather” he corrected himself as soon as Garak tapped the inside of his wrist, a little bit difficult to manage this time with Julian's hands making repeated movements. “- that they perceived him as such. Grandchildren. They want grandchildren. The continuation of the Bashir line. And so I resolved to not ever give this to them. I would hurt them by denying them this, in place of getting them to acknowledge the hurt they caused me, and it also meant I would live spitefully for so many years. And it did hurt them.” Julian gave a sad smile. “But what a way to live, Elim, to live to spite others.”

“I have to admit, it is not necessarily a bad motivation.”

“Well, for a short period, maybe. But I don't want to do it anymore. And once I let go of my desire to deny my parents that, I actually had to discover whether I truly did or didn't want to have children.” He sat up, again, reaching his hand out to Garak, who took it and held it. “I would like to have children, and have a family with you. I have thought that for a while now. I knew however, that although I wanted something, did not mean I was ready for it yet.”

“You want a family? With me?” Garak repeated.

“Yes, of course, I would.” He squeezed his hand. “But I believe there's still many things to be considered before we can realistically begin to contemplate it.”

“The war.”

“The war, the most obvious thing. I'm also not sure I want to have a family on a space station.”

Garak tried to adjust to the fact that they were actually discussing the future conditions for them having children. 

“It's frustrating to postpone all these things with the sentence “when the war is over”, but I suppose it is rather an optimistic thought, it means we're assuming there will be an end to it, that we will win, and that we will both survive it.” 

Garak wanted to say something to dismiss Julian's realistic summary of the situation, but if he did it would have been a platitude and he would not insult them with that. They had to hope indeed, they would make it to the end of the war. 

“I suppose another practicality to confront,” Garak continued, wanting to address all the negative issues immediately. “I don't believe our systems our compatible for reproduction, dearest.”

Julian smiled. “I am a Doctor, so if you wanted, we could turn to medical support in order to enable that. However, I had found myself rather taken with the idea of adopting.”

“Adopting?”

“Mm.” Julian nodded. “Cardassian children, I thought.” 

Garak was worried he would begin crying again and sought to keep his breathing even. 

“A Cardassian child?” 

“Oh, Elim, at least three.” 

Garak was shocked but also not shocked. Though Julian said he no longer felt the need to spite his parents, it could still be interpreted that his parents would be hurt by this too – he did not believe that Richard and Amsha Bashir had imagined Cardassian grandchildren, nor would they be particularly happy about this development. Even by having children, he would not be 'continuing' the Bashir line in their eyes. 

“Aside from the small matter of war,” Julian said. “- the more difficult issue is whether I myself am suited to being a parent, or whether I would ever be ready to be one.” Garak said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. “Can a child be parent to a child? And more importantly, can we risk having children who might end up witnessing one of their fathers being a child? How irresponsible would that be? How can we unite a family life with my need to be Jules? Even if I gave it up, I can't for certain say it wouldn't come out involuntarily, or wouldn't come to a head like it has on this holiday.”

“Firstly, I too would be very sad to give up my role of carer to Jules.” Julian smiled, his skin taking on warmer tint. “But secondly, every parent has to contend with seeking to balance care and responsibility with the needs of the individual, in their identity and life that is not based in being a parent. We already have to seek balance of a similar kind in our own relationship.”

“But to risk exposing children to something so damaging, so abnormal!” Garak tapped the inside of his wrist.

“Julian. We are adults. Even as parents, we will still have our private life. Or are we also going to abstain from sexual relations indefinitely if we are to become parents? We will just have to ensure they do not witness it. It may be more challenging, yet I do not see that it is a practical impediment if we take enough care. I would very much like for your little space to continue to be a part of our lives, and I am certain you do too. I can't imagine, however, that being little is ever going to be as intense as and as prolonged and painful it has been this first time. If we adapt our lives, I am certain your times as Jules will be more manageable now that we have all this behind us. Also – you are visibly a happier man now – does it not stand to reason that a more content person makes for a better parent? I rather believe you are now already in a better position to be a parent than before this . Yet -” Garak tilted his head. “- I do not believe you are thinking only of practical considerations; I believe you are concerned that someone who is a little has no business around children, has no business being a parent.” He did not even wait for Julian to confirm this. “By this logic, Julian, we should also not become parents because they will inevitably witness me during a claustrophobic attack.”

“But -”

“But that's different.” Garak echoed his partner, smiling at Julian's frustrated face. “Furthermore, you are forgetting one very important thing that we have to our advantage as prospective parents.”

“Which is?”

“We both know exactly how not to do it.”

There was a moment's silence and then Julian spluttered, trying to stop himself from laughing but it was hopeless, he gave up and just laughed, hard, hand to his brow, eyes closed and shoulders shaking, laughter lines deeper than ever; Garak too felt an irrational and overwhelming fit of laughter come upon him though in his case it was a laugh deep in his chest, not as loud as Julian's, a steady stream of laughter emerging from him which seemed to have no end. It was as if they were laughing at and over everything – laughing at the strangeness of their lives, laughing over themselves, laughing at their parents, laughing over all the misunderstandings and fears they had cleared up as being baseless, and mostly they laughed because they so desperately needed it. 

When the fit had finally passed, they sat looking at one another, and Garak felt a sudden surge of warmth along his neck ridges. Julian rose and seated himself on Garak's lap, and began to kiss him; Garak kept him balanced, whilst allowing his free hand to grip tightly to the soft flesh of Julian's thigh. Julian nipped at his lips, and experimented with the amount of pressure Garak found pleasurable, whilst simultaneously slowly and deliberately tracing over his neck ridges, the combined sensation already having a powerful effect on Garak.

“Julian -”

“The bedroom?” He murmured against his lips, barely breaking contact.

“But also, Julian -” His breathing was coming fast and shallow. “Today, I want you inside of me, please.” 

Julian moaned at these words, and kissed him again, before breaking off, rising from his lap, and pulling Garak up after him, urgency evident in his movements. They reached the bedroom, and Julian rid himself of his clothing in a haphazard manner before pushing Garak onto the bed; he stilled his hands as he began to undress himself, and instead did it for him, slowly removing each item, kissing and touching each piece of skin and scales as they were uncovered. Soon he was lying on his back, naked, as Julian slid down between his legs, kissing and licking the insides of his thighs; he paused in his ministrations, his eye caught by the silvery scars there. He swept his thumb gently over them. 

“Reminders.” 

Julian nodded.

“Witnesses.” Julian continued his touches. Oh Lord, why was he talking so much? He wasn't usually like this during their lovemaking. Julian rearranged himself, and began to tongue over his cock, swirling his tongue around the ridges all over it, at the base and leading down towards the tip, making a pleased noise when his actions yielded results, Garak's cock hardening, Julian's already erect, hard and hot against his leg as he continued to suck him. Suddenly the wet heat was gone from his cock, and Julian's hands were on his thighs, pushing them apart as he moved down further, seeking access to his hole, the first touch of his tongue at his perineum a shock, feeling indecently good, his senses being almost overwhelmed at everything he was experiencing. It was not only the intensity of these physical sensations, but also the sense of being reunited with his lover again in a way they had not been able to express for the past few days, the sense of how the gestures and touches were familiar but also imbued with a different meaning now, the other side of all they had been through recently. Garak involuntarily whimpered at the combined feelings, and Julian paused briefly, checking whether his partner was alright.

Garak shook his head, “I'm fine, truly. Just -” He didn't know how to put it into words, perhaps there were no words for these moments; however, Julian seemed to understand, and seemed satisfied with his answer, and returned to probing his tongue deeper into his tight ring. He wanted to beg Julian for more, he keenly felt the need for harder, closer contact, he wanted to be filled up by him. He tugged gently on Julian's hair to make him look up. 

“Please, can you – I need you to start doing more, I don't -” Oh this was too much. Under any other circumstance he would have been humiliated to be rendered so inarticulate, but he found it very difficult to care just now, and Julian continued to interpret his scraps of words just fine. He tensed momentarily at the initial moment Julian inserted his first finger into him, the shock of the cold lubricant quickly giving way to sheer sensation, he wanted more, he wanted as much of Julian as he could get. When he inserted the second finger and began to move around, Garak just gave himself over to it, gave up. “Julian.” He whispered. 

“Elim?” Julian paused, believing Garak needed to say something to him; he realised however that Garak was simply saying his name at intervals, almost an intonation as his partner opened him and prepared him, clearly aroused himself at this version of Garak, so beside himself he could not prevent himself from giving voice to sighs and cries, unselfconscious noises of pleasure, his lover's name returning repeatedly, a deep moan emerging from him as Julian put three fingers inside him, the sound causing Julian to curse at how erotic this noise was, and he bent forward, his finger moving inside him, and returned to kissing Garak, who met him with what felt like a drugged sensuousness. He had always taken the utmost pleasure in Julian's body, but rarely before had he taken such pleasure in his own body, feeling almost wanton, wanting to be touched all over, to display himself to Julian, wondering what he looked like with his legs open and Julian's fingers moving in and out of him. 

Soon neither of them could hold back any longer, and Julian coated his cock with lube before positioning himself at Garak's entrance, gripping to one drawn up knee for support, and he slowly began to enter him, pausing, checking; he felt so full, so satisfied, finally, and he sought to kiss Julian, their kisses becoming sloppier with each passing moment, as Julian began to slowly move in and out of Garak, his face tight with pleasure, whilst his lover's features seemed to have become entirely slack, he lay there, his mouth open, as Julian began to move more intensely; they were not able to last long, and Garak felt overwhelmed at the intimacy of their position, as Julian spent himself inside him, and he soon after came, his cum coating their torsos. Julian continued to kiss him, Garak having now gone utterly boneless underneath him, his body feeling relaxed in a manner it normally only did when exposed to great amounts of heat. Slowly, they both came down from this post-coital high, and made lethargic movements to arise and clean themselves, not getting anywhere very fast.

“I have never seen you like that before.” Julian said when they finally made it to the shower; he touched his fingertips to Garak's eye ridges. Garak revelled in the touch, in the sensation of hot water on his scales, in Julian.

“I have never seen myself like that before either.”


	12. Chapter 12

Their last morning on Risa came; they packed their bags and directly boarded a ship returning to DS9. The initial shock at being inside confined spaces such as a ship, and then the station, was as harsh as Garak had dreaded. Once they were in their quarters, he layered up on his usual attire, the chill more difficult to bear after the pleasant heat of the past two weeks. He felt his muscles tensing and contracting as he shivered every so often – now he understood where the aches in his body came from, if this was the stress his system was under. 

They had barely had time to unpack before Julian's Comm went off, and Captain Sisko's voice came through, requesting to meet with the Doctor. Julian gave Garak a quick kiss before setting off – already station life was imposing itself on them.

While Julian was off in his meeting, Garak left their quarters to go and check on his shop, and to prepare to re-open it the following day. It would take some time to readjust to the pace of life onboard the station, as well as the sheer number of people around him after an extended period of cloistered peacefulness. Although it was not as if they would have much choice – the rhythms of life on the station had no interest in their need to readjust, they would just have to re-enter this world and deal with it as they went. He hoped Julian would manage alright – he wondered how the meeting with Captain Sisko was going. He opened the doors to his shop, and set about refamiliarising himself with work tasks which only after this short break already seemed strange to him. He missed the courtyard at their holiday home on Risa, with the table he liked to sit at and the sun shining down, a heat trap at all hours of the day. 

Captain Sisko was evidently satisfied with Julian's recovery and promptly returned him to active duty. The first week back on the station passed swiftly – Garak had a back log of work to attend to, and refreshed and energised from his holiday and time with his partner, and as Jules, Julian threw himself back into his work in a manner Garak had not seen in him for many months now. The war raged on, getting worse and worse daily it seemed, with no end in sight, something Garak tried not to allow himself to dwell on. He sought to think of Cardassia, freed from Dominion occupation, a Cardassia he could return to, somehow, with Julian, where they would bring up their family. He returned to these thoughts every night before sleeping, nursing them in his chest. 

-

He was quick to notice a change in the way those on the senior staff interacted with him since he and Julian had returned from their holiday. Odo now regularly dropped by his shop, after his morning debriefings. Initially, Garak had wondered if the Constable was adding him to his rounds of suspicious characters he kept tabs on. However, as conversations began to develop between them, Garak instead realised that Odo wanted his opinion on various goings-on in relation to security, he was consulting him as someone he believed was competent, and could be relied upon, who would be able to help him analyse the data he had. In the aftermath of the bomb explosion in the infirmary, it was now apparent Odo valued his input. Garak found he enjoyed this new informal role and his near daily meetings with Odo, engaging in these kind of discussions and being able to put his skills to use in this manner. The work the Captain had him doing now, with code-breaking, caused a distressing series of conflicted feelings in him, but his meetings with Odo were only to ensure the safety of the station, first and foremost, which was also a priority of Garak's, as well as providing a welcome distraction from the Cardassian codes he was tasked with working on, fully aware of how they would be put to use. 

If Odo's change in attitude towards him could be explained by professional motivations and duties, he realised the other members of the crew had revised their attitude towards him as they had now seen the difference in Julian since they had returned from Risa, and they had identified him as the one responsible for the change in their colleague and friend. It wasn't entirely inaccurate, Garak reasoned. Though their relationship remained mostly uncommented upon, there was a subtle shift in how he was greeted, how he was received. Lieutenant Dax would sometimes fall into step beside him if they met on the promenade, and once or twice already Chief O'Brien had offered to buy him a drink at Quark's. At first the conversation had been stilted, but as soon as Garak displayed an interest in his children the ice had been broken; he was presented with a parade of images of them, and anecdotes about them, and Garak took genuine delight in listening to him. It culminated with Miles (for he insisted repeatedly that he must call him by that and not 'Chief') asserting that all the literature Julian was making him read was not representative of the best that Terran literature had to offer.

“Has he ever given you anything by an Irish writer? I knew it, and that's the proper stuff.”

“Have you yourself read it?”

“No, I haven't but I don't need to, to know it's better than the things Julian is forcing on you.”

Garak shared these anecdotes with Julian, which amused him; he was also pleased to see Miles making such an effort to be companionable with his partner, in spite of his previous prejudices. 

Julian was a changed man and everyone could see it. No-one could begin to guess at what had actually happened on Risa, all they knew was that the exhausted, chronically over-worked Doctor, reliant on alcohol at the end of the working day, deeply unhappy, was no longer so – he moved purposefully, light inside himself, his enthusiasm for his old passions and friends returned in full force; he had a new lease on life, and he positively bounced – indeed, sometimes he did bounce on his feet, which was a charming image to Garak. Julian laughed easily now, his face lit up in delight and interest when presented with something that caught his fancy. This was not to say there were not troubles and worries, or that they did not experience difficulties, but now they seemed better equipped to deal with them. 

-

It was not until after the first week had passed and they once again settled into their old station lives that the question of how to keep Julian's little space integrated into their routine had arisen. Garak was at least reassured that Julian was not displaying any sliding back into his denial of his needs as he once had; rather they had to work out how to meet these needs without causing him to neglect his duty and to use utmost discretion in doing so. Garak found that the most important skill for him to learn was to read Julian for signs of Jules, like a parent reading a child's behaviour and body language. It was an ongoing progress, and one he was not always successful at.

There was one occasion where Julian slipped into little space so quickly that neither of them had caught it and they were not able to prepare for it. On this particular evening, after a gruelling shift at the infirmary, and after another installation of the weekly lists of war casualties, Julian had returned to their quarters, unable to settle and moved around their rooms repeatedly.

“My dear, is there something the matter? Can I help?”

Julian stood uncertainly, looking off to the side, fingers plucking at his uniform. “My stomach hurts.” He mumbled. 

Garak looked concerned, imagining that stress was having a negative impact on the Doctor's digestive system. “I'll see what I can find for that. Is it nausea or just pain?” 

Julian nodded to the pain part, sitting down at their table and so Garak found him a painkiller from the Doctor's own supply and gave it to him; it seemed to have little effect. Garak returned to his Padd, hoping his condition would improve with a little bit of time. Something niggled at him – Julian was very quiet. Too quiet. Before he could react any further, he saw Julian grimace, bending forward slightly, gasping “Papa!”, and then there was a hiss as urine streamed over the chair, pattering against the floor and pooling between his feet.

“Oh, Jules, my little one.” 

Jules could only sniffle miserably as the flow continued before petering out, leaving him there, wet and distressed. Garak placed Kukalaka in his arms as he attended to him, and then cleaned the floor of their quarters. He instinctively returned to his role as caregiver and found himself, in spite of Jules' initial distress and confusion, content to once more be caring for his little boy, welcoming the return of Jules. They just needed to adjust and improve the system of signals and communication, so that they could both be better warned when Jules would emerge.  
They spent the rest of the evening quietly, with Jules pressed closely to his side as they sat on the sofa, fingers of one hand grasping the front of Garak's clothes, the other clutching to Kukalaka as he listened to Garak reading from “Run with the Wind”, a story about a group of talking foxes attempting to survive in a world increasingly hostile to them – the Chief would be pleased to know he had sought out some Irish writing, but perhaps would not expect it to be of this kind.  
He put Jules into a diaper and his soft pyjamas, and with Kukalaka making three, they retired to bed. Julian had woken up, dry, returned to his adult self; after getting ready for work and just before leaving, he turned to Garak.

“Elim, this evening could we book a Holosuite? Just that I'd like to take a walk with you, the way we did on Risa, even if it is only a simulated one.” 

Although he was aware that the heat was artificial, it was still a welcome relief for Garak. He and Julian strolled arm in arm over the sandy beach; Garak had already guessed that Julian had sought to recreate the surroundings of their holiday in order to produce a conducive environment for this talk. 

“I had no idea I would fall into little space so quickly and completely.” He began. “I had intended to make it back to our quarters and somehow tell you but, well.” He shook his head. “All day in the infirmary I felt myself edging towards being Jules. However, I was working, surrounded by my staff, serious cases and patients to attend to, there were people relying on me. That kept me grounded in my adult self. As soon as I returned to our quarters and saw you, I think, because you're – the one who takes care of me, who looks after me, that automatically upon seeing you, my mind just felt safe and well, let go.” He flushed at his choice of words. “I was just so little, I couldn't do anything myself, I couldn't even express to you in any form where I was or what I needed.” 

“Well, it is understandable that if you associate me with being Jules, that it would help to hit these triggers. And it is good that we know now that being in your professional environment puts the brakes on instead, indicates to your mind that it is not the time or the place. I should have also known earlier that you were in little space. And you were only Jules for a shorter period this time, when you woke up you had returned from it.”

“I think now I have, in spite of what happened at first, some degree of influence over it. As in, I can feel myself becoming little and can either choose to follow it and allow it take over or I can hold it off for a bit. I think I could even completely intentionally induce it if I wished to as well.” 

They continued walking for a bit.

“Elim?”

“Yes dear.”

“I do apologise that uhm, you end up in the position of having to clean up after me, and clean me up on such occasions.”

“There is nothing to apologise for. It is part of my role.”

He looked at Julian who was worrying his lower lip with his teeth. He was struck, as he often was, by the wonder of having met this man, having won him, and seeing him change and grow. He wished Julian could see himself through his eyes, even just for a moment.

“You truly don't feel any distaste at having to clean up my accidents, or – when, when you change me?”

“Not a bit.” 

“Well prepared for parenthood at least, I suppose.” 

“I believe the two are somewhat different.”

“How so?”

Garak faltered, unsure how to proceed, not having expected to ever vocalise these very intimate thoughts and sentiments. “Having to attend to you on such occasions, it isn't that I find it pleasurable in the more usually received sense of the word; it's more that, to me it is a sign that you are very deep in little space, that you are reliant on my care, and that you feel very secure, and that is why I feel content in those moments.” 

A shy smile spread across Julian's face. “You have a wonderful way of neutralising my fears that I am somehow abnormal, simply by saying a few sentences.”

And so they continued, with trial and some occasional errors, to adapt their lives to include Julian's little self. One evening after his shift at the infirmary, Julian had approached Garak, and whispering, in spite of being in their private quarters, had said: “I think I want to be little this evening.” His face was flushed a deep shade and Garak touched his fingertips to his cheek.

“What a lovely idea. And a clever thought to let me know directly.” 

In no time, Jules had taken hold of Kukalaka and then took up position on the floor, focused intently on colouring a picture whilst Garak kept an eye on him.

These requests came on average once or twice a week, sometimes less, sometimes more. Garak wistfully thought of the fields and beaches on Risa, knowing there were so many other things he and his little boy could do if they were not limited to a space station. These were ideas to be considered in the future ( or in some uncertain future). Garak would talk to Jules about all the the things they could do once they had their own home together – they would be able to go for walks together, maybe in the desert (his heart returned to Cardassia more and more these days), they could visit public gardens, where exotic blooms were kept in hothouses, there were so many adventures he and his little boy could have. Hampered as they were, they still enjoyed resuming their activities, with Garak working on some clothes project of an evening, or reading, whilst Jules played near him, happy to be sunk into a place where he did not need to rely on words, drawing or arranging his blocks, usually ending the evening with a bedtime story. On one occasion, he had caused great delight in Jules by arranging a 'tea party' for them and Kukalaka, and Jules was very much taken with the ritual of taking tea.  
There had not been a reappearance of the highly aggressive and angry Jules, and Garak wondered if this version was linked only to the feeling of insecurity induced in him by the memories of his early childhood – as he had said to Garak, he now had new memories to re-inscribe over that time. 

Garak's only concern had been whether the integration of Jules into Julian's life would cause him to take on little traits in his daily adult life. This was not the case so far. Instead another phenomenon became apparent as time went on – other traits which could be ascribed to Jules began to make their way into Julian's behaviour. Garak had already noted the occasions where he bounced on his feet, how his hands and fingers had become more and more active and demonstrative. One morning, Julian had been drinking a cup of tea whilst standing at his desk, scanning some reports on a couple of Padds before him; the more focused he became on them, Garak began to observe how he rocked back and forth slightly on his feet, rising on his toes every so often. Initially, Garak thought Julian had slipped into little space too quickly for either of them to catch.

“Julian?”

“Mm?” He looked up after a moment, eyebrows raised, clearly still his adult self.

“Never mind dear, it was nothing.” 

He kept his counsel, wondering if and when Julian would perceive these changes in himself. A few days later, he raised the topic himself at lunch.

“Have you noticed – that I, uhm, have certain new tics?” He was twirling his fork around in his food as he said this; he did not appeared concerned necessarily, but he seemed uncertain, and in his times of uncertainty Garak had come to learn that Julian needed his reassurance. 

“Oh? Could you elaborate, Doctor?”

“I was working on some things in my office, and one of the staff came in, they needed me to sign off on something. I had been so focused on what I was looking at, part of my research – oh, and wait until I tell you about that later, I've finally had time to work on it – but I caught them looking at me, and I realised my hand was, well, I was – flapping it.”

“Oh?” 

“Oh? All you have to say about that is 'oh'?”

“I see nothing sinister in moving your hands in a demonstrative manner. Or perhaps I am mistaken? You are the qualified medical professional, is flapping your hand a symptom of a debilitating physical illness?”

“No.” Julian retorted, putting down his fork. “And you know it isn't, and you know that's not why I'm asking.”

Garak simply blinked back at Julian. 

“I felt so ridiculous when I realised that's why they were looking at me so strangely. I didn't notice I was doing it. I don't know why and I don't know how to stop it.”

“Have you considered that you don't need to stop it?”

“Of course I need to get it under control.”

“Why?”

“Garak.” 

“No, in all honesty, why? Was it interfering with your work? Did it prevent you from working?”

“No.”

“Does it happen when your hands are occupied, if you are operating or treating a patient for example?”

“Not so far as I'm aware.”

“Have you injured anyone?”

“What? No, I haven't injured anyone.”

“So, it doesn't affect your ability to work, and it doesn't physically harm anyone, and it isn't a symptom of a terrible disease.”

“No.”

“So.”

“So, you know there's more to dealing with people than that.”

“Julian. These newly emerging traits – have you considered that they might have their origin with Jules?” He kept his voice low, even though the noise level around them was fairly high. 

He returned to twirling his fork, looking uncertain at what Garak had just said. 

“My dear Doctor, we all engage in such repeated involuntary actions to one degree or another. Some pace the floor, some play with their hair, or bite their hails. Why can't you be demonstrative with your hands or bouncy on your feet?”

“You noticed that too?” 

“I did. Are you surprised? I have a trained eye for detail. I also found the picture very charming and it pleases me to dwell on it. And though I have not yet witnessed your demonstrative hands, I look forward to the occasion.”

“Why?” 

“Because it will be very you, and very suited to you, and so I take pleasure in those moments.”

Julian ducked his head, a smile on his face at Garak's words. It was a good start, though Garak knew it would still take repeated reinforcements for him to be truly accepting or this new development – or rather, a return. 

Garak learned to recognise which repeated movements of Julian's were positive and which were negative – his demonstrative hands and bounciness were good, they meant he was fully focused on something, engaged with it, present. Hands to his hair and tugging on it, or slight rocking back and forth could be indications of stress, something he took recourse to in order to centre himself, to quieten whatever was disturbing him – often, they were precursors to the appearance of Jules. 

\- 

Garak and the Chief had taken to indulging in semi-regular drinks together, with or without Julian. That evening they sat in Quark's; Miles (he still could not adjust to calling him by his first name and had to be reminded) was waiting on Julian to arrive so they could continue their darts rivalry. He and Miles were talking about anything except the war, a welcome, if only a temporary, relief. 

“Have you seen this business with the hands? When did that all start?” Miles asked casually.

Garak turned his head slowly and fixed the Chief with a certain stare, one he had not had cause to use in a very long time. “What are you referring to?” His tones were pleasant and yet somehow made the atmosphere icy. 

“Nothing, absolutely nothing -” Garak could not be certain but he had the distinct impression that the Chief had been about to call him “Ser” and had managed to stop himself. 

“I thought so.” He released him from his gaze, and sipped at his Kanar.

When Julian finally arrived, Miles all but sprang from his seat to the darts board, taking the Doctor with him. 

-

But then the war began to consume their lives entirely – something was imminent, something was going to happen, they knew. It had already taken so much from so many, and before it was over it would demand even more.


	13. Chapter 13

Garak had never understood the words “Be careful what you wish for – you just might get it” until he was sent to Cardassia, with Major Kira and Damar. What he had wanted for so long, to return to his planet, his home, had finally been granted but now he was here during war and occupation, he could not go outside, and he found the experience strangely empty, all the more so because he missed Julian intensely. Though he had not had a claustrophobic attack, he lived in constant worry that he would be subject to one, and Damar and Mila would be witnesses to it. The irony of being off of the station and now on a planet but unable to go outside was not lost on him. Be careful what you wish for. The unending stream of propaganda over their screens and airwaves furthered soured his demeanour – how could his proud, intelligent fellow Cardassians suffer the degradation of this tripe? This all combined to make him tetchy and much more snide that he would typically be. Even Mila, after her initial happiness at his return now treated him in a similar way to how he treated them all. Now he was finally warm and still he found it impossible to rest. He struggled to sleep easily without Julian beside him. He thought of his partner throughout the day, worried about him on DS9, fighting the war on his end, separated from him. Contact was nearly completely impossible – they would have to wait until the end of this mission, or the end of this war to be reunited, or not, however chance played out. He and Julian knew far too well how someone could be ripped brutally from them – Julian's grief over Lieutenant Dax's death was an open wound, barely bandaged over, not to be addressed directly. He was not sure he would ever be able to forget how he had gone to search for the Doctor, hours after his desperate emergency surgery on his friend, his success in saving the symbiont only, the expression on Julian's face as he sat in the infirmary, still dressed in his surgery uniform; it wasn't even shellshock, or denial, or grief, it was utter disconnect. And there was nothing either of them could do about it. Garak felt that the universe was taking great pleasure in mocking him.

He sought to soften his manner, at least towards Mila; there were not many opportunities for conversation or at least for private conversation. He wanted to tell her that he hadn't forgotten his wish to share this house with her if she would allow him, and his partner. He wanted to tell her about how unexpectedly his exile on DS9 had been transformed, and he wanted to tell her so much about Julian. He knew she would like him, she would be so happy at the promise of grandchildren. But he held his tongue for he could not know who was listening among his own party or if there were outside forces spying on them. Julian was already exposed to dangers he could not protect him from, and he would be damned if he was going to allow a few sentimental words to compromise them, to be used against him to threaten his love and weaken their operation. He burned with the need to free Cardassia from this humiliation, to return to Julian, and to just be able to go outside. 

-

Then it all turned to ashes. They had apparently won the war, they had been liberated. All he could see, repeated over and over in his mind's eye, was the figure of Mila, tumbling to the bottom of the stairs in a heap, killed for nothing, by a nobody. He had not been able to take his leave from her properly, he had had to abandon her where she had fallen, denied the dignity of a proper Cardassian burial. Mila's entire life had been beset by injustice and even in death he could not undo it or compensate for what she had lived and not lived. He refused to think of it, indeed he could not if he wanted to survive, if he wanted Cardassia to be freed. He kept looking forward, his life still a narrow pinprick directly in front of him. It was imperative that he survive and for the first time in his life he could not say for certain whether he would be willing to sacrifice himself for Cardassia above everything else; Julian's face always swam up in front of him at those moments. He could not lose him, he could not leave him alone. And survive he did, and Cardassia survived too, for what it was worth.  
As he moved through the streets, after the war had ended, on his way to a ship to take him back to DS9, he saw how the once grand, imposing structures were reduced to rubble, how stricken starving figures moved, shellshocked, looking for what, he did not know, for food, shelter, for loved ones who were never to return but who would never be found. The streets were filled with corpses, dead Cardassians cruelly left exposed, uncared for, to decay under the eyes of the open sky.

Garak returned to DS9 knowing only that he could no longer stay here, his place was on Cardassia, as much as it tore at him to have to witness its destruction and its struggle to put itself back together. So much had been wiped out forever, not only huge numbers of Cardassians, but also the culture he had cherished so much and fought for, so fragile and flimsy against the mindless logic of war destruction, so meaningless. Ashes. Everything tasted of ashes to him, the colour of ashes was everywhere and he feared that the remaining skeleton of Cardassia would be blown away as so much ash unless it was carefully protected. Garak stepped off the docked ship with the others, and thankfully there was no tasteless heroes' welcome, and if some of the party were to be celebrated as returning heroes, he was certainly not one of them. But then there was Julian, standing in front of him, oh, Julian. His Julian. He could only remain where he was and stare at his partner, his wiry frame which had only become thinner, his exhausted expression, new lines on his face, and he was so beautiful to Garak. He approached him and before Garak could react, he had put his arms around his neck, and simply held onto him, not caring that they were in full view of the promenade. He fought against his natural (or conditioned?) instincts and returned the embrace. 

“I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry”. Julian said to him. 

It was a reunion, but not a festive or celebratory one, instead it was pure relief, gratefulness, they had both made it somehow. He did not know how to carry on a conversation, and he felt sorry for Julian as they sat together in their quarters, who maintained a one-sided torrent of words and anecdotes, confused, interweaving, uncertain. Garak just could not harness the motivation in himself to contribute. What was there to say right now? This was an odd no-man's land period, too close to the war to be able to imagine talking about anything else but also too exhausted to talk about what had just happened. He would need more distance before he would be able to put words on those experiences. But silence was worse, he worried. He drank a glass of Kanar, knowing he could easily drink himself into a stupor and this time Julian wouldn't prevent him or at the very least, he would not be able to prevent him from doing so. But getting black-out drunk would be an insult to all the dead, to all the corpses in the street, to all those buried in mass graves, unidentified, their lives unmarked. How could he indulge in intoxication in the face of that?  
He sat up much later than Julian, who had gamely attempted to wait for him before retiring to bed alone, exhaustion getting the better of him. Garak remained on the sofa, an unfinished glass of Kanar near to him. He rose then, and entered their bathroom. Searching among their various toiletries, he found what he needed. He removed his clothes, and set to his task. Soon blood beaded down his thigh in thick, regular rivulets, dripping onto the floor. The pain was sharp and clear, and Garak committed it to memory before making further incisions on his thighs, deeper. He did not know how many to make – how many was enough for all those Cardassian civilians lost to the war, for all those who would starve in its aftermath, who were suffering as he sat here? Everything was ashes.

“Elim!” 

Garak had been so involved with the pain that he had forgotten where he was, he had lost his grasp of time. Julian's face was pinched, his fingers preparing the dermal regenerator.

“No, don't you dare.”

Julian recoiled; Garak had not spoken to him in such a manner for years now. 

“Elim, I need to attend to this, you are bleeding, I need to stop that, and I need to prevent any infections -”

“That is of no concern to me. I refuse to allow you to use that machine on me.”

“Elim, I am a Doctor -”

“I do not care. That regenerator will not touch me or so help me.”

Silence.

His blood continued to drip steadily. Julian made no move toward him, neither did he release his hold on the regenerator. His presence was disturbing this moment. Julian was evidently attempting to calm himself, and gain control over his breathing. 

“Elim. I must stop the bleeding. If I can do that in a manner that does not remove the incisions, if I do not interfere with the formation of scar tissue, will you allow me to treat you?”

Garak nodded mutely. 

Julian hesitated. “You will also want to forgo any form of anaesthetic?”

Another nod. 

Julian appeared to have expected this and in his face, Garak could see how he was fighting against his natural healer's instinct. He left briefly, and returned with another kit. He was going to stitch his incisions.

“You are quite certain this won't prevent scar tissue from forming?” Garak queried. 

“Yes. I promise you.” 

Julian kneeled between his legs, firstly staunching the blood flow with some gauze pads, cleaning the area with a disinfectant, which added an extra sting but not one that Garak welcomed. It was a sterile pain – he knew which kind of pain he sought, it was dull and deep, throbbing and unrelenting. He wanted to feel it every time he moved. He watched Julian as he set to work stitching the long, open wounds, watched as his deft fingers manoeuvred the needle in and out, each movement bringing another sting. His hands were steady as he worked, professional. Garak felt so far away. 

“How did you understand?”

Julian paused in his work, only a few incisions remaining. “You told me once. During sex. I looked at your scars, and you said to me “Reminders. Witnesses”.” Julian returned to his work, quickly completing this task, tidying away his instruments, and then cleaning up the floor, removing the blood. When he stood and held out his hand to help him, Garak saw a traitorous tear falling from Julian's eye, which he shook away. Neither of them spoke. Julian fetched him a robe to cover himself with, and then they sat on the sofa together. His partner understood why he had done this, Garak thought. And furthermore, he knew to say nothing now because otherwise he would be intruding upon a commemoration, he would be taking away from this deeply private moment. And so they sat, in silence, for a long time.

-

When Garak woke in the morning, Julian was already gone. There was a note to explain that he was needed in the infirmary. Garak could only imagine the injured still needing treatment after the war, the reports to be written, the bodies awaiting collection and burial. He had no appetite. His wounds were bleeding a little again and their coverings needed changing, but he left them as they were. He spent the day reading any information he could access about the current situation on Cardassia, analysing the data, making notes and summaries to himself about what was needed, how it would best be provided for, the quickest way to alleviate their suffering. Julian returned, saw Garak sitting surrounded by Padds. He hesitated. Garak gestured to him that he was allowed to examine his wounds. Julian attended to him, sighing at the bandages which should have been changed hours ago but made no comment. Once that was taken care of, he went to the replicator and ordered himself a large brandy, and seated on the sofa, he took a large mouthful from the glass.

“We need to leave this station.” Julian said plainly. “We need to leave, and go to Cardassia.” He took another large mouthful.

Garak did not know how to respond. He did not want to say nothing again, yet anything such as “Yes” or “Thank you” would have been meaningless filler.

But Julian had already continued. “I need to remain here for a while yet, to finish treating those injured in the war, and to document everything that happened, so that the cost of this war will not be forgotten." He took another mouthful, finishing the drink, and got himself another one from the replicator. He saw Garak looking at him.

“For God's sake, Elim!” He exploded. Garak was taken aback. “I mean this in the kindest way possible but you are not the only one suffering, you are not the only one struggling. I will have this damn drink and more after it.”

It remained unspoken, and did not need to be given voice to – he had acquiesced to Garak's demands yesterday, now it was his turn. During their separation they had to each fall back entirely on themselves, something all too easy for Garak to do, With this separation had come a return to their previous coping mechanisms. Julian was still staring at him, challenging him, his thin little shoulders rising and falling visibly with each harsh breath, glass clutched in his hand. Julian had been alone, Garak thought. Alone to deal with the horrors of the cost of war. He quickly understood that without him around, Julian had ended up revisiting his need for alcohol. He had not had Garak to take care of him, he had not had Jules or anything associated with him. The time had made him hard, harsh; a paradox in a way, Garak considered, how the Doctor's boundless empathy had to be turned to hardness in order to survive the sheer unrelenting onslaught of casualties.

“How many were there? How many casualties?”

Julian sat down heavily. “Eight hundred million.” There was a catch in his voice. 

Garak reached out his hand to Julian and he took it.

“My dear, I believe we have both been much beset by the thoughts of the cost of this war, and those still suffering.”

“Even if I wasn't with you, I would still feel compelled to go to Cardassia now, to help in any way I could. The problems are only just beginning there now, you know that better than I do. I've already put in my papers for a transfer, and I've been making enquiries with a hospital I can attach myself to.”

“I too have been searching around for how I can best be employed but my skills can not be transferred quite as directly.”

Julian was not drinking as fast as he had been earlier and Garak was relieved. The air remained uncertain between them, though it was slowly returning to how it used to be, and it would take some more time for them to relearn being with one another after their separation and experiences. This would not be achieved through love-making, and indeed, Garak lacked any ember of a drive at this time, as much as Julian's beauty never failed to touch him. He believed it was similar with his partner. He would not be able to focus on his lover to the complete level required, he would not be able to lose himself in the moment and pure sensation as he had learned to. Love-making also seemed obscene to him in the face of the suffering around him, and yet, he was aware he could only afford to think and act in such a manner for a limited period. He could not forget the importance of his living partner and dedicate himself exclusively on seeking to assist Cardassia in rising from the ashes. They would learn again how to create a small idyllic place for themselves, as they had on Risa, as they had managed for some time on DS9. 

He attempted a weak smile. “It seems somewhat hubristic to believe anything I can do will materially or significantly contribute to Cardassia's recovery and yet I can think of little else.”

Julian squeezed his hand. “It will make a difference. They need Cardassians like you to return home, to bring their memories and learning with them, their presence. A reminder.”

“I can accept it academically but I cannot feel it, I am afraid.” 

“You once told me you would carry my anger for me. I will carry your belief until you can carry it yourself.”

Garak inclined his head, touched at his partner, who even when he remained somewhat uncertain and lost himself, was able to give him this resolute support. 

Julian took a deep breath. “Elim. I need to know if you are planning on hurting yourself again.” 

He knew this needed to be addressed. “As of this moment, no. I thought you told me you understood why I did it.”

“I do.”

“So, you should also understand that it won't be repeated.”

“Likewise, academically, yes, but, it's hard to accept the words -”.

“Julian, are you concerned that yesterday was a sign that I want to end my own life?”

“No, not directly, but yes, I am concerned you could unintentionally, through an uncontrollable attack, cause your – oh, God.” He leaned forward, tugging at his hair, rocking slightly. Julian was struggling, struggling with expressing himself, and seemed overwhelmed. Garak felt a stark protective desire in the pit of his stomach. 

“My dearest boy, I did not survive this war just to do myself in once it was over, please be reassured of that. I have plans for our life together but at the present moment I find it difficult to access them and see them, however, they are very much there still, and I am going to make them a reality.”

“Oh Elim, I am sorry, I just – not having seen you for so long, I got scared. Everything seems so uncertain. I keep thinking everything will disappear before my eyes. This war has shown us that anything can happen.”

“Could we continue this conversation in bed? Not like that but, I would very much like to lie down with you.”

They rose and Garak noticed Julian hesitating. He guessed what he was hesitating over.

“Please, Julian; it has been quite some time since I have been in Kukalaka's company too.”

Julian retrieved his teddy and they settled into bed together; Garak lay on his back, one of Julian's long legs thrown over him, leaving Garak able to rest his hand on his warm skin. Julian positioned himself carefully to ensure he was not putting untoward pressure on Garak's wounds. Garak spoke to him in a low, quiet tone, detailing his plans for where they would live on Cardassia, what sort of home they would find for themselves and build, a garden, ideally, a long-term project for him to work on, orchids he would be able to cultivate. He talked at length, making up for the silence and distance since his return, making up for their separation. He talked about Cardassian orphans, spoke about places that no longer existed on Cardassia, destroyed, and which hurt him to think of, but he wished to share them with Julian; he talked about Cardassian literature and art, he spoke about the sound of Cardassi and the feeling he had hearing it and speaking it, he mentioned how much his fellow Cardassians would admire his beautifully tall and long-limbed partner, how much Mila would have adored him. As he spoke on, Julian's frame relaxed bit by bit; he listened with his eyes half-closed, Kukalaka held close to his chest, and at some point, he began to suck his thumb. Garak stroked his hair, convinced that Julian was in desperate need of some respite and time being little, and he planned to create some time for him to be able to have this. It was not entirely born of pragmatism – as much as Julian needed it, he too had a deep desire to see Jules again, to care for him, to show him Cardassia. Now, he talked instead of the animals to be found on Cardassia, describing how the different species looked and behaved, the stories about them in Cardassian lore, until Julian had fallen asleep. Garak felt as if some of the grey ash which he imagined had been coating the back of his throat since he had left Cardassia was dissipating.


	14. Chapter 14

Their new home had so many windows; Garak's first reaction had been to plan how to cover them over, put shutters of some kind on the outside. Julian had resisted this idea.

“Why do we need to cover them over? Others are lifting the hoarding off of their homes now that the war is over.” 

He was aware it didn't make sense and this awareness made him tetchy about it. He knew that keeping the windows boarded up only caused the house to seem more closed in, to make it darker, and less like a home. A contradiction, but it felt safer, like it felt safer for scurrying creatures to be in a burrow, he thought to himself. It was what he knew, from his childhood, from his time in the Obsidian Order, from the war – being seen was a risk. 

“What about the courtyard on Risa?” Julian continued. “That was your favourite spot. There was so much light coming in there, and it made such a pretty place to sit in. There are a lot of windows but we also have doors and walls, and those serve to keep others at bay.”

Garak very much wanted to believe that. However, he acquiesced and in spite of his reservations, the many large windows of their home remained uncovered. As they settled in, day by day ordering their abode a bit more, making it lived in, Garak found himself not only becoming accustomed to it, but welcoming the way their home seemed to be filled with light during the day, causing the rooms to feel bigger and airier than they were. One of the rooms had been turned into a private office for him, and he noticed that the constant presence of the light helped him as he worked. It also kept his motivation to the front of his mind – he would look out the window, and stare at the utterly changed landscape and skyline, remembering what was missing from the view; he would watch Cardassians passing by, noting the state of their clothing, how poor or desperate they appeared. He did not tell Julian directly that he had been right, however he did not need to – Julian already knew, which was why he had pressed the point.

Their first few weeks on Cardassia passed in a constant stream of activity, whether it was spent working on arranging their home, or quickly adapting to their new professional positions, with Julian spending long hours at the hospital, and Garak building up a new network of influential or useful Cardassians who could co-ordinate aid and rebuild the razed cities, the social structures, setting in place the barest bones of a life for his people, to be built upon. There was not much time left over to them, and at the end of each day, Garak would look out the windows at the rear of their home, considering the sizeable piece of land there, indulging in thoughts about how he would cultivate it into a large garden, all that could potentially be done with it. Yet, in spite of the busy pace of their lives and its focus on work, in spite of witnessing the day-to-day struggles of post-war Cardassia, he felt that he was in the right place, engaged in necessary work, and sharing it with the right person. 

Garak had been initially concerned about how Julian would adapt to Cardassian society, and how they would react to him, but he seemed to forget every so often that his partner was not the same ingenue he had first met so many years ago; he had survived a war, and was a seasoned Star Fleet officer, a capable professional. Whenever there were negative reactions to him, Julian shrugged it off. 

“I have long been used to causing such reactions in others. But if I can win over Miles, then I will manage with my new colleagues too.”

And he did acquire certain allies at the hospital over the initial weeks. Garak was also aware, but did not mention, how his own growing connections and status with some groups meant there was a certain reticence, if not a fear, in displaying any outward disparagement of the Doctor. Garak could not pretend, that even in spite of the circumstances under which it happened, that it did not give him a significant degree of satisfaction to experience this sense of power once more. 

-

One evening, Julian returned from the hospital at a reasonable hour, and upon seeing him, Garak decided to finish up as well – with the long hours the Doctor had been putting in, it left Garak alone in the evenings, and so he had got into the habit of continuing to work through those hours, or to pay visits to useful figures for his aims and plans. He wondered when their life together would resume some of the regularity they had been somehow able to maintain on DS9. 

They ate dinner together, Julian telling him about the day he had had at the hospital, Garak listening not only to pick up information on what was happening on the ground locally, but also taking pleasure in Julian's tones as he recounted the different anecdotes. He noted, however, an absence of any demonstrative movements, and unsure whether it meant simply that his partner was too tired, or whether he had consciously begun to conceal his various physical movements and habits specific to Jules. He hoped it was not the latter, although he did struggle to visualise his fellow Cardassians' reaction to his Doctor's bouncing and demonstrative hands. Perhaps it would be necessary to extend some influence to counteract any potential negative reactions, but this was something to consider and plan for if and when it would be needed.

“Garak, there's a novel many of my colleagues seem to make repeated references to, and I don't know it, and I imagine you do.” 

He named the text and naturally, Garak had read it. “One of the more contemporary works which has been accepted into the canon.”

“Well, I'll have to familiarise myself with it if I'm to understand all their references. Cardassians do make recourse to literary quotes with some regularity. You know, I think they're even trying to test me because they were so taken aback that I knew a lot about their literature.” He fixed Garak with a fond look, his brown eyes softened with a warm light. “Were you always preparing me to live on Cardassia, by making me read all that Cardassian literature? It has proven very beneficial.”

“I wish I could claim I had been that far-sighted; however, I cannot. A happy turn of events, we shall call it instead.” 

Garak did not need to say it out loud, as they both knew why he had plied Julian with so much Cardassian literature – he had been lonely, but it seemed too pitiful to have to articulate that. He had indeed been terribly lonely in those early days, and Julian had brought such colour into his life.

They shared the sofa, bigger than the one they had had on DS9; Julian was focused on his Padd, whilst Garak perused various different Cardassian news sources, and their reading was punctuated only by Julian's occasional questions or comments on his text. After some time, Julian put his Padd down, and appeared to be staring off into the distance, tugging at his hair every so often. He sat up then and Garak could tell he was preparing to speak.

“Elim.”

“My dear.”

“We've never really talked about the war. I mean, the end of it. When we were separated.”

“No.” He paused. “It is easier not to, in one way. Also, for practical reasons, we both have had to keep ourselves focused on the present and the task at hand.”

“Looking at those experiences would demand a pause, and it would be so easy not to take that pause. However.” Julian shifted, his face taking on a clouded expression. “I feel removed a bit from myself. As if there's this period of time that I understand took place and that I acted during it, but I cannot feel it or really feel it as having happened to me. It is just a blank.” He looked off to the side. 

“You need some time as Jules.”

“But only if that is alright for you as well, at this time.”

“How so?”

“You are a very busy man these days. That is not meant as a reproach, just a fact.”

Yet he still felt it as a reproach and wondered at why he was being so sensitive. He examined his partner – he did not wear the same exhausted look as he had during the war, now there seemed to be, not a distant aspect to him, but rather a disconnection; not in the listless manner Jules had once been, this distance was more vague, dreamy, and though it did not appear to be a high as he had experienced with his implant, it did remind him in some ways of the numb, blurred feeling he swam through with that device. It wasn't just about processing the particular period he mentioned, it was about needing to recalibrate in general, and being Jules would enable him to do so. He took his partner's hand.

“Then let us do so.” 

Julian smiled softly. “I put in so many hours at the hospital, they've already told me more than once to take a few day's break, so I think now I will avail of that.”

Garak assessed that he could carry out most of his necessary tasks from home as needed. However, this was somewhat unexpected – he had not realised Julian wanted to spend extended time in his little space, and he could not help but associate this with their holiday on Risa and his initial encounter with Jules. For the first time, he was the one who felt strangely apprehensive about spending time with Jules, and this concerned him. It was not that he did not want to care for Jules, he always did, but this time a part of him wanted to slink away, and that was how he knew it was not Julian's problem, it was his problem, and he needed to find out what was causing this reaction. 

Garak did not sleep well that night; he thought repeatedly of how Julian had articulated the blankness of his memories from the last part of the war. It tallied too closely with his own – he knew the memories rested just below the surface in him, and could easily break through whenever they wanted to. Oh, had he not done this enough, had he not faced enough pain in his life, why was more being asked of him, and why once again would Julian prove to be better able to take on this challenge? At least he could facilitate his partner here, even if he remained lagging behind in this aspect, forever. A darkness had settled on him, on his chest, and he no longer had the excuse of being on the space station and being subject to claustrophobia or suffering from the side effects of the (to him) unnaturally cold environment. It's just you, Elim, Tain hissed in his head. It always has been and now you have no-one else to blame.

He rose that morning before Julian and stood in the doorway of their home, facing onto the land he continued to hope he could turn into a garden. He turned, and saw his partner, hanging back, thumb in his mouth, Kukalaka held against his tummy, rocking slightly back and forth. His heart twisted – his little boy was so beautiful and he looked so uncertain, not approaching Garak. He kept his facial expression mild, whilst inwardly he tore himself to pieces. Jules did not feel secure, and then neither did Julian, he was just better at masking it. His throat felt constricted – how could he have let this happen, unnoticed? What was causing his partner to feel like this? It was not just about the war, and maybe it was not even directly about it, perhaps even Julian himself couldn't express what had brought about this state. He approached Jules and gathered him into his arms, burying his face in his hair, feeling how his frame did not relax, how he remained stiff in spite of the embrace.

“Now, my dearest boy, shall we prepare for today?” 

They bathed together, Garak slipping back into his role as caregiver, but still too aware of the off-notes in Jules; he was unengaged, with no little noises or chattering, After he had dried him, he sought to help him get dressed, however Jules refused any clothes Garak presented him with. This had not happened before – certainly, his little boy was particular about what clothes were acceptable and which were not, in terms of texture, but something had always been found to be acceptable. They were both becoming increasingly frustrated as Garak could not work out what was wrong. The darkness crept in further – he did not know how to care for his little one. He gazed into Jules' eyes, seeing his anxiety, noting his steady rocking, and he realised how very little his boy was at this moment and finally understood. 

“Oh, Jules, I am sorry. I can only promise to do better from now on.”

He would not accept any clothes being offered currently because something else was missing; he was too little to stay dry during the day, and so Garak soon had him taped into a diaper; once this had been achieved, it was much easier to settle on clothes to wear. 

Jules, however, remained highly anxious throughout the day, unable to settle, struggling to focus on any games or drawings. He could hardly bear to be away from Garak, neither did he relinquish his hold on Kukalaka. Was this how Julian had been feeling, covered over or held at bay by his adult self? He clung physically to Garak, and would begin keening loudly and rocking if they were apart for longer than a few minutes. What had unsettled Jules this deeply and how had he not been aware of it? He had admittedly been very dedicated to his work but then so had Julian. However, something told him he had hit upon the issue – it was not about his work directly, for Julian was also someone who needed a full professional life as well as personal, and he knew there was no misunderstanding over this. Something also told him it was not the change in environment, it was not moving to Cardassia which had upset Jules. It was something in Garak, it was something in his attitude or behaviour in relation to these areas that had so unsettled his partner and he needed to understand what it was. He spoke to him, repeatedly using his favourite endearments, praising him, telling him how happy he made him, which Jules accepted but it did not lessen his evident anxiety. 

That evening, they sat on the sofa together, and Garak read to him, continuing on with the series about the talking foxes. They came to a section where the foxes needed to flee from encroaching danger, the expansion of human activity had just reached their dens, and so they crossed through unknown lands, and some of the foxes got lost, and the others were forced to move on with them. Jules reacted instantly to this, and he was distraught. This had not occurred before whilst they were reading, that he had reacted so negatively, and Garak cursed himself for not having the foresight to check the content of the books ahead of time. Jules sobbed, inconsolably, taking great gulping breaths, the sound harsh, his cries unrelenting; Garak pulled him entirely into his lap and his little boy curled up, putting his arms around him, weeping into his chest, each wail tearing at him. It took a long time for Jules to quieten; even after his sobs had faded, tears continued to fall from his eyes, and he made no move to loosen his hold on Garak. He pulled a heavy blanket around them, hoping the added warmth would provide further comfort. 

He sought to comprehend what had so distressed Jules – he did not believe it related directly to the time they had been separated during the war, though that was the first and most obvious thought which came to mind. What did Jules associate with this time? Or was it something else? It had been the first move towards returning to Cardassia. An uneasy realisation began to dawn on him. He had been attempting to understand Julian's reactions to certain developments and changes when he should have been examining his own, and how this affected his partner. For had he not changed? Perhaps it was not in the most obvious manner but he had. Had he not begun to become more like his old self, pre-exile, pre-Julian? His return to Cardassia, and Cardassian society, had brought him closer to his old self – had brought him closer to Tain. He had fallen back into the role far too easily, hadn't he, the life-long striving for his father's acknowledgement, the hate that burned in him as well, his hunger for power, all those coming to the fore. It was intoxicating, was it not, to be back on Cardassia? He was now involved in rebuilding Cardassian society, something not even his father could claim to have achieved. He was becoming important, and feared, and he relished it. He was going to surpass his father, he was going to beat him. 

He sighed and tightened his hold on Jules, who nuzzled deeper into him. Damn Tain. Damn that man – his influence on him was still far too strong. It was so strong that he did not even notice he had fallen into this trap, the ultimate trap and consummation of all Tain's plans for him. For this was exactly what Tain had wanted for him. He had moulded him for this position, to assume power, but had done so in a way that made Garak believe he was 'winning' at the game Tain had written the rules for, when the reality was, that this was precisely what his father had wanted all along. Hatred and spite were better motivators than love, in Tain's book. The realisation shocked him deeply. He was doing exactly as Tain had always planned, he had fallen into his trap completely. He was on his way to following in his father's footsteps, and if he was embarking on the life his father had led, that then meant he would be condemning Julian to a life similar to Mila's. Tain had not had a personal life in any meaningful sense. He had had a child, there was Mila, but there were no relationships, no intimacies, no beauty. If he were to continue on this path, his life would be lived only for the new version of the Obsidian Order when it rose once more, created by him, unintentionally or not. Was this what he truly wanted? He pressed his face to Jules' hair. He already knew what he truly wanted, and somehow he had weakly allowed Tain to overtake his thoughts with old scripts. Tain had probably always calculated on sending his son into exile, in order to strengthen his love of Cardassia and his desire to return home. Was this the life he wanted to follow, who he wanted to be now? He would always want to help his fellow Cardassians, and he would not cease doing so, but that was the key difference he needed to hold onto. He could help and promote his people without sacrificing himself in the process, without sacrificing his relationship. This was what had been worrying Julian, the fear, not unfounded, that his partner was going to leave him behind in his new life, that their life together would never again be as important to him as it had before, that ultimately, their life together would be eroded, and the man he was with would change utterly, would turn into all the worst aspects of himself. No wonder Jules was so anxious and frightened. He breathed in Jules' scent, he concentrated on the feel of his skin beneath his fingers, his warm body curled on his lap. If he truly wanted to beat Tain, then this was how to do it. He would do it by holding on to what was the most important to him. He needed to rethink his approach to his position on Cardassia, which would take some time. He still wanted to be active and contribute, but not in the way or to the degree Tain wanted. He breathed out shakily, feeling weak, exhausted, but knew instinctively he had finally understood something fundamental, and it would guide him in the right direction for him now.  
Night had crept in almost completely now. He stroked Jules' back, and with his little boy in this position, he could feel the warmth against his lap as Jules wet his diaper. He touched his cheek.  
“I think it is time to get to bed, my little one.” 

He felt so protective of Jules in this moment that if he had been a younger man, he simply would've carried him to the bedroom. He changed Jules and helped him into his soft pyjamas. They lay in bed together, and Garak brushed Jules' hair back from his face.

“I do love you so much, more than I can say.” 

Jules sighed, more content than earlier in the day. They drifted off to sleep, with Garak focused on the rhythmic sounds of Jules' breathing. 

-

Jules remained very little, and Garak assessed he would be spending a longer time in this space, and so he once more established a routine for them as he had before when they were on Risa. He set aside the late afternoons to deal with work, and having delegated a number of responsibilities to competent and capable others, he found he had more a managerial function, an over-seer role, and this could be easily conducted without interfering in his time with Jules. The mornings and early afternoons, this time was was for him and his little boy.

“Jules, I need your assistance.” He said to him across the table at breakfast. His little boy remained anxious and clingy, but was slowly coming out of himself more, more interested in other things. He looked at Garak, his brown eyes wide. 

“Do you see that land out the back of our home? I want to make that into a pretty garden for us. Like in the story you love so much. Now, where I need your help is with what the garden should look like. Could you draw pictures for me? What it should look like, what colours and flowers there should be, and where? And once we do that, we can plant it together, I can show you how to grow things, if you would like that?”

A shy smile spread across Jules' face. 

“But I do need your help, very much, and you draw such pretty pictures.” 

He cleaned the table and watched as Jules settled down to drawing, becoming completely absorbed in the task to the exclusion of everything around him. Garak opened the doors at the rear of the house so he could keep an eye on his little boy, and surveying the grey, choked land in front of him, decided any corner was as good as another to begin on, and so he donned some gardening gloves and began to clear the ground, weeding, raking through the dry dirt and turning it over, noting what he would need for each later stage, what he would have to acquire, his knowledge on gardening reawakening as he continued to work. He would take a break every so often, and sit on the doorstep, relishing the feel of the sun on his scales, how it felt to do work with his hands.  
Jules' interest had been ignited by the job Garak had given him, and he was fully engaged by it. 

“Papa.” He said quietly, coming to sit beside him. Garak experienced a deep joy at hearing this endearment being bestowed on him. He examined the pictures Jules gave him, finding the colour schemes wonderfully pleasing, and told Jules so, as well as pointing out which Cardassian flowers and plants corresponded best with the colours and shapes he had created, showing him the images of the flora on different Padds. Jules was enchanted by these images, his hands becoming very demonstrative indeed, and Garak found himself unexpectedly emotional at the return of his little boy's natural movements. Over the coming days, Jules occupied himself with blending his creations and patterns with these images Garak had shown him, resulting in complicated and intricate petals and leaves, ivies and blossoms entwining in endless repetitions. 

Garak found it very difficult to leave his little boy and their project, even for the necessary hours required in the afternoon for his work. Soon, he had put together a plan for the garden, rough and subject to change, which he showed and explained to Jules, whose delight at this was once more expressed through his flapping hands. He was much more settled now: he was having fewer accidents during the day and Garak predicted that soon he would only need to be padded up during the night. He made more chattering noises, took joy in being with Garak, clambering on him in the morning, calling to his Papa. 

“Now my dear, I think we are ready to plant the garden.” 

Jules took his hand and they went outside to set to work; Garak demonstrated the right depth to dig a hole for seeds, showed him which way up a bulb needed to be placed. He watched as Jules took delight in working with the ground, his fingers exploring the sensation of the clay and compost. Garak envisioned the garden growing, sprouting and unfurling, first with buds of green before becoming a kaleidoscope of colour. 

“I would also like to have a hot house, but that is another plan for another day. Here,” He showed Jules. “- we are going to have all kinds of herbs, so we will have wonderful scents in the garden too, as well as the flowers.” 

He had already planned a spot to place a table and chairs, so he could recreate the courtyard from their holiday home on Risa, those hours spent at that table remaining a golden memory for him. Jules followed him to another patch. He paused before speaking.

“I thought – if you would like – we could sow flowers here and make it a place to remember those we've lost.”

Julian held Kukalaka to his face, his eyes shimmering, the sun highlighting their lighter tones. 

“Do you know what flowers Lieutenant Dax liked best? We can plant something for her here.” Garak knelt down and carefully set some seeds into the ground. “Those are for Mila. Gillyflowers. She liked those best.” He had sought so much to not think of Mila, to not think of the indignity of her death and the smallness of her life. This was the best he could do for her now.  
Jules knelt down beside him, placed Kukalaka in his hands, and put his arms around him. 

“That is very kind and generous of you, to share Kukalaka with me, thank you.” He patted Jules's arm and looked out over the ground, their expected garden. He rose awkwardly, and returned the teddy to his little boy. 

“Papa?” 

“Indeed, what do we do now? Well, we wait. We have to wait.”


	15. Chapter 15

The garden bloomed over the following months, creating a spectrum of shades and shapes, casting cool shadows on burning hot days, strewing blossoms and petals as the plants were buffeted by the Cardassian desert winds. Though there was no winter as Terrans understood it, flora still went through a recognisable life-cycle, and so the flowers fell away, and Garak and Julian tended to them, preparing them for the next cycle. The garden bloomed again, and their first year together on Cardassia had passed. It remained an unending project, the garden, regularly added to, cultivated, and assessed. Garak's hothouse had finally become a reality and there he nursed an array of orchids; this was his place and even Julian did not encroach upon it, knowing that these flowers were particularly special to his partner.

It was a quiet evening, and they sat outside together, sharing in a Kanar and brandy, respectively. Julian was focused on reading various new medical papers relating to illnesses peculiar to Cardassians – he had spent the past year consuming great swathes of texts in order to catch up to his colleagues now that he finally had access to such material, living on Cardassia. He had recently begun embarking on some initial research in this area himself, now that he was confident of his grasp of the literature. There was something amusing to both of them about the prospect of Julian becoming a human specialist on Cardassian medicine and treatments. Garak could not lie that it was reassuring to him, as he grew older, to have his doctor and his partner be one and the same person; he could trust him.

Garak was scrutinising a variety of reports passed on to him, assessing what was of value and required further attention, and what could be discounted, and who to assign the relevant work to. He found himself in a rather fascinating position – though he had declined the offer, and may he add, further insistent offers, of a position with great power and influence, his contemporaries did not accept this at face value. Their suspicions remained unshakeable, that Garak's choosing to remain in this middle position was merely a cover, for what Cardassian, when offered more power, would turn it down? It confirmed to Garak that in many cases power lay where it was perceived to be, even if it was only an illusion. The wonderful paradox was that by declining the offer of outward status and power, he had gained more through others' suspicions of him and their belief that he had another secret engagement that his position was a cover for.

However, he certainly was not without power and this had proven valuable on certain occasions. A few months previous, a call had come in for Julian and as it was coming from DS9, he had answered it. It was his parents; they demanded to know why he had not informed them he was living on Cardassia, and why was he even in such a place? Now that the war had ended, they had come to visit him on DS9, unannounced, of course, and had not found him there. Garak only knew what Julian shared with him of their conversation. As soon as he had realised who it was, Julian had shut the door and all Garak could do was remain outside, waiting. He had not taken this as an exclusion or rejection; he understood too well what Julian was struggling with. Once the talk had been concluded and Julian had emerged, Garak could read only all too clearly the devastating impact his mother and father had had on him. He regressed drastically after this encounter, heralding the return of the aggressive and unhappy Jules he had once before seen on Risa, who lashed out repeatedly. Garak could only reassure him and allow him to be angry, even if he was the one on the recceiving end of his little boy's hurt and confused rages. He bore witness to them, and held him afterwards. From Jules' behaviour, he extrapolated that not only were the Bashirs dismayed at their son's choice of home, let alone his choice of partner, they saw his professional environment as not befitting what they envisioned for him. Under stress, Julian must have further displayed some of his recently relearned behaviour from Jules, and this had been the culmination of their yelled conversation. It had been one of the few moments when Garak had regretted not accepting a position of greater influence, if only for what he could have done to the Bashirs. As it was, he had been able to arrange it so that should they ever deign to attempt to visit Cardassia, the Bashirs would be denied entry and were to be considered persona non grata indefinitely. This accomplished, Garak sought to rid himself of further fantasies of retaliation; he was not Tain. And as with Tain, he and Julian would win against the Bashirs simply by continuing to do what they were doing. They were incapable of understanding their partnership, and this was of great satisfaction to Garak.

After this, Julian had settled again, and his contentment on Cardassia and in his life with Garak expressed itself very much through Jules. After the incident with his parents, any other time he had become little had not been fraught in such a manner. It was a part of their lives and their relationship; Julian regularly spent time in this space but for shorter periods, sometimes moving between the two mindsets back and forth, depending on the day.  
Garak looked up from his Padd, and regarded his partner, who was focused on his reading, unaware of his gaze; his eyes moved rapidly, he was interested in his text, his brow furrowed in concentration, his half-empty brandy held in one hand; the soft Cardassian evening light behind him lit him wonderfully, and the surroundings of their garden only enhanced this image. It was a lovely feeling, to know that his partner was content, and that part of this contentment was due to him.  
Julian put down his Padd and reached for Garak's hand; their intertwined fingers rested on the table between them, Julian repeatedly grazing his thumb over Garak's knuckles.

“I finally feel as if I've settled down properly now on Cardassia.”

“It would seem to agree with you, Doctor.”

“And you.” He squeezed his hand, his brown eyes filled with fondness.

“Elim. Do you remember what we talked about on Risa, about wanting children?”

Garak only nodded. This topic had been left to the side for so long, first due to the war, and then due to the business of carving out a life for themselves on Cardassia. Recently he had found himself thinking of this more and more, seeming to come parallel with his increasing thoughts about his own age. It struck him powerfully sometimes, the ache to have a child. He had kept this to himself, knowing it would be better to allow Julian to broach the topic.

“I think, but I don't know how you see it, I think now we might be ready to look into that – do you?”

“My dear, I can only speak for myself but I have been ready for some time now.”

“I know, Elim, and it can't have been the easiest thing, waiting. But it is reassuring to know that you are so certain about being a parent.”

“You continue to have doubts?”

“Not about having children, no. About whether I am ready to be a father, yes.” He tugged at his hair. “I wanted to be so sure that I had dealt with certain things before bringing a child into our lives. I think I have but how can I be sure? I can't be objective about that. You saw what I was like when my parents contacted me, and they weren't even physically here. And the other occasion near the beginning of our time on Cardassia, I regressed very sharply.”

“However, when your parents are not in contact with you, you do not end up in such a state. And they are never going to be able to reach you on Cardassia.”

“I know, and thank you for that. I just needed to be sure I could manage being little, being Jules, in a controlled way before inflicting myself on a child.”

Garak tapped the inside of his wrist. “You will be a wonderful father. And I am here too, to share that duty and responsibility. If there are any unexpected issues, I will be here to cover.”

“Father.” Julian raised his eyebrows. “Hearing that word applied to myself – I find it so odd, I can't connect with it.”

“You don't have to use that word. Or your feeling about it might change when you hear your child calling you that. If we were able to re-inscribe your childhood with nicer memories, perhaps the same can be done with the connotations you associate with that word.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps. I find myself wondering if having children will change my need to be little. Will it lessen it, will it feel different afterwards? How will it be for you to have a child as well as a little sometimes?”

“We will not be able to guess at that, I am afraid.”

“No. No, we won't.” Julian shifted in his seat, releasing Garak's hand. “I sometimes wonder whether I will experience this need for the rest of my life. Will there come a point when I just don't need or want to be little anymore? Will it fade naturally, once the need has been met sufficiently?”

“That is something else we cannot know. However, all I can say is that as long as you wish to have your little self be a part of your, and by extension, our life together, I will always be here to care for my little boy.”

Julian smiled, the ever-deepening lines at his eyes forming. “Currently, I know I need it, but it's no longer something unknown or frightening. I would be sad somehow to lose it, I take so much from it, and I think it has given us both a lot. However, I can only wonder at how ridiculous it will appear as time wears on.” His tone was dismissive and Garak tapped his wrist again. “Oh, I know, love, but seriously – whatever about now, will it not be ridiculous when I am an old man who still wants to play at being a child? At least now I can get away with it to a certain degree.”

“It will not matter how old you become, to me, the sight of you holding Kukalaka will always be a charming one to me.”

“Oh Lord, Elim, I'm a little bit scared.” Julian said, inhaling sharply, his eyes seeking reassurance form his partner, and Garak understood they had returned to the issue of children.

“I think that is only natural. You can tell yourself you are prepared for something and still be apprehensive.”

Julian nodded. “But I do also want it, very much. I find myself thinking of you with children hanging out of you, and for me, that is quite a charming picture.”

-

A few weeks later, they arranged to visit an orphanage, and Garak could barely keep his facial expression in its usual schooled state of mildness. Such institutions always filled him with sadness and anger; though there had been significant improvements to the quality of Cardassian life over the past year, the legacy of the war and its destruction had barely been confronted. It was most evident in their graveyards and in places like this. There were so many children left alone due to the war.  
Garak spoke with the director, a brisk but not unkindly Cardassian woman, and she gave them a tour of the home, and talked about the enormous pressure such institutions were now under in post-war Cardassia. The orphans furtively eyed them with suspicion and interest, attempting to mask their reactions and failing.  
She then introduced them to a small Cardassian boy, Lum, who she believed might match well with them. Garak held back initially, wanting to allow Julian to begin their meeting, to allow him to become comfortable talking to this young boy. However, Garak need not have been concerned – only after a few minutes, Lum was talking excitedly to Julian, wanting to show off his drawings and schoolwork, grabbing his partner by the hand, who was listening, rapt, his eyes alight with joy.

“But you will have to tell me about this, I don't know what this is.” Julian was pointing to something in Lum's schoolwork. The young boy gave Julian a disbelieving look.

“You don't know?”

“No, I don't, but I'm sure you could tell me?”

Lum launched into an explanation of something every Cardassian child knew but apparently not this man, and Garak was very amused by the sight before him. He thought of Mila, and how pleased she would have been, how she would have doted on this spirited Cardassian boy, how she would have prepared the nicest treats for him to help put some weight on his skinny body. The director of the orphanage herself, remaining at a discreet distance, was also clearly pleased with this and she smiled at Garak.

Currently, Lum was interested only in impressing Julian and so he left his partner and the young Cardassian together, and looked around the room they were in, his eyes passing over the other Cardassian children of varying ages, engaged in different activities, some sitting in small groups, others in pairs, who darted glances at him regularly. His gaze came to rest on a young Cardassian girl, who was sitting, unlike the others, alone, a Padd in front of her which she was staring at fiercely, mouthing something to herself repeatedly. He rose and inclined his head towards the child.

“And who is this handsome young woman?” He asked the director lightly.

She sighed. “Edona has been with us for some time now. We have never quite been able to connect with her. Edona!”

They approached and the director called her name again but still she did not react.

“Edona, please put the Padd away, this gentleman would like to talk to you.”

The director received no response and the child called Edona did not relinquish her hold on the Padd. Garak took up position beside her. She was intent on trying to pronounce the word 'necklace', saying it over and over again to herself. She was small and light, her thick black hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes and markings a particularly striking shade of blue.

“Please, Edona.” The director gestured to Garak. “He would like to talk to you.”

She continued her study of words unperturbed. Garak indicated to the director that he was content; looking resigned she moved away and back towards Julian and Lum. Edona continued to recite the word 'necklace' to herself, not quite managing the syllables correctly, and Garak once or twice said the word back to her, stressing the correct intonation, and she did not react. She never raised her head from her Padd; Garak found himself wondering what had caught her fancy about this word, and what she felt or thought as she was repeating it.  
At the end of their visit, Garak took his leave of the young girl, telling her he would come visit again, and he turned to see both the director and Julian watching him. He arose, feeling exposed and sought to appear as neutral as possible.

“We try to do our best here, but we don't have the kind of resources necessary to do so.” The director said and Garak interpreted this as a reproach to himself and others in a position like his in Cardassian society – and perhaps, she was right to, he admitted to himself. “She was doing so well, and then suddenly instead of making progress, she began to go backwards, forgetting words she had already learned. We try to understand what it is she wants but she gets upset and she is very resistant to being held as well.” She moved on then, considering that topic closed, enquiring whether they wished to organise a further visit with Lum, which they agreed to immediately, but Garak repeatedly thought of Edona throughout the rest of the day.

That night, lying in bed, Julian with his head on Garak's chest, said: “The little girl, Edona – she's like me, isn't she? She's like Jules.”

Garak hummed his agreement. “Somewhat different in certain aspects, I believe, but yes, she is very much like you and Jules.”

Julian rubbed his palm up and down Garak's side, slowly. “It's hard to think of her spending her life in that place.”

Garak caressed the nape of Julian's neck, stroking the patch where his hair began. “It is difficult indeed.” He inhaled sharply. “Do you think we could give her a good home?”

“I think so.”

“Would it be too much for you?”

“How so? To see a child like me be given a chance to escape the fate Jules had? That I would somehow be jealous or resentful? I would be a damnably selfish person if that were the case. But I understand why you ask. The anger at my parents will never completely go away. However, that has nothing to do with her.”

“And Lum?” Garak asked.

Julian raised his head from his chest. “Oh, he's such a sweet boy, Elim, do you think - ?”

“You did say before that you wanted at least three children.”

\---

After further visits to the orphanage, they began the arrangements to officially make Lum and Edona part of their family, and prepared their home as they waited for the process to move through the required administrative gears. They worked on transforming two rooms in the house for the children, Garak giving into his weakness for gifts, filled them with toys he thought each respective child might like. Julian only smiled, knowing to not even gently tease his partner about this, which Garak was grateful for – to be so close to having children made the hollow ache in his stomach all the more powerful, and a dark fear began to follow him around persistently, that something would somehow prevent them from the realisation of their hopes. Tain's voice in his head, intrusive, was a rarer occurrence but it still happened, and he found that his hissing tones were returning with some strength and regularity now, mocking him for his sentiment. _You never learned, did you? Not even when I showed you in the green house how sentiment is your weakness, it always has been, your precious idealism, you make it too, too easy, Elim._ Julian could sense the heaviness plaguing Garak and though he could not directly tell him the content of what Tain said to him, his partner could guess all to easily; he said nothing, and his silent support went some small way towards neutralising Tain's influence.

The approaching arrivals and change in their living situation was also having an affect on Julian, bring about complicated feelings and responses not unlike his own. He found Julian one morning before going to work, standing in front of the shelf where Kukalaka resided in their bedroom when he wasn't sharing Jules' company. Julian's face was anxious, evidencing a frustration with himself; he seemed disappointed in himself. Garak approached him and placed his hand on his lower back.

“My dear, please forgive me if I am experiencing a certain sense of deja vu.”

Julian turned his head to look at him; his remark had not resulted in the lightening of the atmosphere he had hoped for.

“Kukalaka is mine.” Garak waited for Julian to elaborate as he did not yet understand what he meant by this, but he detected a more child-like tinge to his tones. “I – I don't want to share him, I can't.”

“Julian.” Understanding flooded in. “Kukalaka is very, very special to you, and indeed, to me too now. You are not obliged to share him with our children or pass him on to them just because he is a teddy bear. He is your bear.”

“But if I can't share that, make myself do without for them -”

Garak shushed him; normally he would not be given to cutting Julian off in this manner but he believed that to allow him to continue to use his words to wind himself up further would be counter-productive. “Our children will have their own special toys. This does not make you weak or bad. Kukalaka will stay here, safely in our bedroom. I would also like for Kukalaka to remain safe too.”  
Garak considered the little bear, the silent companion in their life together; at this stage, he also found it difficult to envision not having him around. “We shall put a lock on the door, and I think perhaps on my office. That way, Kukalaka will be secure, and furthermore, we will have already marked off a space that is just for us, when we need it.”

He was not immediately reassured by this and it took some repetition of these thoughts by Garak before Julian began to take them on board.

Eventually, the day came when Lum and Edona were officially recognised as under their guardianship, and they were able to bring them home with them. Garak had to keep looking straight ahead as he left the orphanage, not able to bear seeing all the other Cardassian children who were left behind, who had not been so lucky. And so began their new life together, as they fumbled through learning not only how to be parents, but also learning who these two young children were, and helping them the best they could to adapt to their new home, and to each other.

Externally, it appeared that Lum settled in the quickest and easiest, taking up his position in the family as if he had only been waiting patiently for this moment to come. He was boisterous and soon began to grow and became quite a stout, strong boy who knew his own mind, and sometimes knew it too well. There was trouble with school and other Cardassians – their little boy apparently liked to show off and boast, and did not refrain from humiliating others in this regard. Garak experienced a painful recognition of some of his childhood tendencies, and Julian likewise recognised some of himself as a younger student and doctor. Garak had some empathy for their son – he had been deprived in his life and now he had what had been denied him. He needed to show off in order to reassure himself and allay his own fears and insecurity which he pretended he didn't have. This tendency would not disappear overnight, they understood, and they sought to be as patient and yet also as firm as they could, that this behaviour was not acceptable, but more importantly, that it was not necessary, as he need never fear being without again as he had before.

Lum instinctively knew how to behave with his sister, and the two quickly formed a bond. In some ways, their daughter remained a mystery to Garak, but he knew they did not need to 'solve' it; instead he acted as if it was him who was the mystery to Edona, and that he was the one who needed to be explained to her on her own terms. Her verbal communication remained limited, however, this was not important to them. Any time he wanted to engage her, he used her name first and then checked by her body language whether she was paying attention. He used fewer words and stressed the important ones, pausing to allow her to process what he said. As time went on, Garak devised a simple system of hand gestures for Edona to employ in order to respond to him, and she took to these with enthusiasm. Lum was also excited to learn what he perceived as a secret language only he and his family could understand. School was an issue he and Julian would consider at a later stage, as they were both concerned that being placed in the wrong environment would undo what Edona had so far achieved.  
Sometimes Garak would discreetly observe how his partner and Edona interacted; if Lum and Edona had a bond, this counted even more so for Julian and Edona. Witnessing how Julian looked at her caused Garak's heart to clench - it was a look of astonishment, recognition, love, and gratitude. On a couple of occasions, Garak had come upon Julian in the garden, furtively wiping tears from his eyes, attempting to hide these moments from their children.

"It's just - so much, sometimes." He sought to explain to Garak the first time it happened. "I - I'm seeing myself, and not myself, and there are these moments of complete identification and memories I don't want to have."

She continued to resist physical contact and they did not force this, allowing her the distance she was most comfortable with. As with Jules, Garak learned to recognise signs of impending attacks and how to deal with what distressed her. It quickly became apparent that their daughter had an incredible facility for reading. She was fascinated by numbers and letters, and Garak provided her with as much material as he could to encourage and support this. Her love of the written text did not translate into vocal ability - she had a large vocabulary but could not apply it to social situations. Indeed, she displayed little interest in playing with others. Garak wondered what her world was like - Jules found it difficult to grasp words whereas Edona was at home in them, just not in saying them aloud. He often stopped as he passed her doorway, observing her as she read, a book propped against her lap, head bent over it, a sheet of black hair falling over her shoulder and nearly touching the pages.

One evening, Garak returned home after a meeting which had run on too long.

"Elim?" He heard Julian's voice coming from their living room, and he followed the sound of it. He was greeted by the sight of Julian on their sofa, Lum on his lap, who was eagerly paging through a picture book Julian had open. He kept his hand against Lum's back, supporting him, and was smiling over some shared joke. Edona sat at their feet, focused on her reading. Being read to was not something their daughter particularly enjoyed, as she preferred to read at her own pace. However, she seemed content to take part in the evening routine of their gathering together to read. Garak bent down to greet her, before approaching the sofa.  
It had been somewhat odd for Garak the first time Julian had begun reading aloud for their children, as he was so used to being the one reading to his partner. He soon grew accustomed to it, and Julian himself took clear delight in his role, entertaining Lum by adopting various voices for the characters in the books, which Garak also found endearing.

It had been shortly after their first six months with Lum and Edona when Julian admitted to Garak his need for some time being little. Garak could tell that Julian had been hesitant to broach this in light of their changed circumstances, and indeed, had been trying to hold off on it for as long as possible. He looked so apprehensive, his breath fast and shallow, still beset by worries as to what this meant for him, for them, for their children.

"We will put Lum and Edona to bed, and then spend the evening together, how does that sound?"

Julian only nodded, already becoming quieter. With the children safely in bed and the door shut behind them, Julian slipped into his Little space, letting go of the concerns plaguing him in relation to it. Garak pulled his little boy onto his lap and kissed his hair.

"Oh Jules, I have missed you, truly. Six months is quite a long time."

Jules sucked his thumb, and looked at Garak, his dark eyes already half-closed, fringed by his lashes, his frame already loosening and relaxing, Kukalaka between them. He had slept clutching both his teddy and Garak, and though he had woken up in a wet diaper, he also woke up back in his adult self. After this initial return, and being reassured it had not impacted their children or his ability to care for them, Julian felt far more secure in allowing himself to be Little with more regularity, every couple of weeks. While their children were still so young, it would only be possible to take shorter periods in this space but it worked for them at this time, and they could reassess the situation at a later time if needed.

Garak sat beside Julian, who pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Lum wriggled from Julian's hold and sat himself between them, asking if Garak would read now. Julian passed the book to his partner, and before he could begin reading, his eye was caught by a movement. Since they had begun using hand gestures to communicate, he had become very alert to any hand movement Edona made. She raised her left hand, looking in his direction, spread her fingers out, and tapped her extended hand against her forehead. Garak was confused and looked to Julian for clarification, who in turn was glancing between them with that particular expression of fondness in his eyes.

"I've been teaching Edona how to make a sign for the word 'Daddy'." Julian demonstrated the gesture once more. Edona made the sign again before bending over her book once more. Garak felt for Julian's hand and squeezed it.

"Now," He cleared his throat. "What story will we have today?"


End file.
